


Me-Crazy and Brendan in Juvie : More Happy Than Not  Fan Sequel

by babybrendan



Category: Adam Silvera, More Happy Than Not - Adam Silvera, They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera, What If It's Us - Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera
Genre: Adam Silvera - Freeform, Becky Albertalli, Gay, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Romance, more happy than not, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrendan/pseuds/babybrendan
Summary: BRENDAN is the drug dealer of his block in THE BRONX and as of recently he's landed himself a place in the Juvenile Detention Center for nearly killing his best friend AARON SOTO for being gay. But hypothetically enough, Brendan ends up gay himself and crazily in love with the infamous sociopath ME-CRAZYHey you guys! This is my story which I've already uploaded on Wattpad under the name of @/Mikehanlon and decided to put up here as well in case there's Adam Silvera fans here who don't have wattpad, hope you enjoy, it's a rather unpopular ship lol





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: I made this FF purely out of fun, wanted to experiment and see how a realationship between Me-Crazy and Brendan would play out. I'm TOTALLY aware how weird this ship is so don't even bother starting shit about that lol. They are just my favourite characters in More Happy than Not so I thought... why the hell not?!

Also since Adam Silvera isn't exactly a man of detailing his books properly enough that I'd know how Me-Crazy looks like I had to improvise on that and just ended up making him look like Tate Landon XD hope you can deal with that, if not; SORRY!  
Now make way for my savage couple:

 

 

 

Brendan hissed out ugly cuss words as he nursed the fresh wound on his knee a cop had inflicted upon him not even hours ago. Monday had been fairly fast paced, if he liked it or not—and he usually did prefer shit be done for good, as quick as it could—but today was different.

News hadn't reached them yet wether Aaron Soto was dead for good or not, they've beaten him up rough and hard and now all they could do was wait it out in a scummy cell, grey walls, obnoxious noises, that was the whole deal. 

With they he meant himself and Me-Crazy of course. Skinny-Dave and Nolan might've been in on it too but nobody bothered to snap handcuffs on THEIR guilty wrists. All the blame had been put on the two boys, and out of them, Brendan was the only one beginning to feel awful about this.

Me-Crazy here, was simply bored. 

Presently he was sitting on the ground in the middle of the cell, legs crossed, talking to the cement walls before him. Brendan had tuned out of his words long ago but now he picked up again on what total bullshit exactly was fuming out of his mouth like angry smokestack exhaust.

"Cops... Damned fucking cops. They don't know shit. They don't 'no ANYTHING! Faggo kid just needed a good old whopping—Then he woulda been fine again. How we were being awful to him? We were HELPING!"

"Word. That's what I've been trying to tell them." Brendan chimed in just for the piss off it, and funny enough it made Me-Crazy flinch violently as if he didn't expect someone could've possibly been listening to him, being in a cell with another boy and all that.

But his only reply was a dismissive snort before he went on rambling. 

"Always do they save those fags! Never do they save the ones tryna help! I was tryna help! He was the fag! He!"

Brendan rolled onto his back, laid his arm across his stomach and stared silently up at the ceiling. He supposed that he'd be doing that a lot from now on; Resting, sleeping, listening to the nonsense Me-Crazy's imaginative brain was able to come up with...etc.

But not even ten minutes later there was a noise coming from the steel-bar door. 

Brendan propped himself up on his elbows, glaring towards it with a doubtful expression and saw Me-Crazy on his feet, the strange orange prison gown hanging on his scrawny body like dusty rags.

They didn't look any better on Brendan. He supposed that they were purposefully designed to be unflattering so nobody would start up with some gay shit and screw one another in the cells. 

But Brendan had some good attributes to make up with that certain kind of loss of sexiness prison fashion forced upon him—His soot-black hair was still playfully curly, light brown skin colouring him out warmly, and eyes shinning with the mischief he couldn't possibly lose no matter how brutally situations brought him to his knees. 

Me-Crazy was a man of a different breed though, his hair was nearly the same colour as straw, the texture anyway, and skin pale as the walls he talked to. ( Maybe that's why he got along with them so well, after all. Birds of a feather flock together. ) 

"What the hell are you doing?" Brendan snapped at last. He rolled down the leg of his loose pants where he'd nursed his knee and stood up, strolling over to him casually.

"Shut your girly mouth and get useful."

"Yeah definitely not with that attitude, punk bitch." Brendan returned. He was about to turn around and walk back to his bed when Me-Crazy grasped a good chunk of his prison shirt and yanked him back to his side. 

"Dude, what the fuck."

"You'll help me with this," Me-Crazy snapped back, locking his eyes on him with a determined look swimming in the browns. 

Brendan knew too well that whenever he got that look there was no going around his will unless you wanted to mess with the hidden muscle power you didn't expect he would have because of his slender silhouette. 

But he did, and that made it just more frightening as you could never be sure when the time was he'd resort to using it against you.

"Alright fine, jesus..." When he let go off him, Brendan flipped him off and patted the crinkles from his shirt away, mumbling aggravated while he was doing so. "Fucking psycho..."

"At the end of the day, you're gonna thank me for it. Just like Aaron would've thanked me if he weren't such a weak fag and let us finish what we've started."

"Well, I don't know about that." Brendan said but Me-Crazy ignored him. He held a scrap of plastic up towards Brendan, gesturing at the lock with it. 

"Me-Crazy found this under the bed. Perfect thing for little Brendan to prove his supposed intelligence on."

"Me? I don't think I'm the one who needs proving. After all you're the one calling everyone but yourself stupid. You go ahead." 

"Don't test me, Brendan."

Brendan let out a harsh sigh and seized the plastic with one aggressive sweep. If Me-Crazy wanted to play the delusional cad on him, the one where he pretended that he didn't do the fucking job himself, then Brendan would just have to make a show and prove his intelligence—And he surely knew the art of doing so. 

But after jamming around hopelessly in the wide hole he felt as let down as Baby Freddie probably would if he finally gets to screw a girl, but notices rather quickly that he can't do shit with a skinny dick when what he really needed is a parachute plus helmet to reach that G-spot of that loose hag. 

He didn't know why the fuck he was thinking of Baby Freddie fucking a girl. And so he stopped immediately to dedicate his attention back to the damn lock he couldn't possibly fucking unlock!

"I can't do this!" He snapped, irritated to no avail. "I just can't! It's like Baby Freddie fucking a loose hoe bitch!"

Wow that definitely sounded better in his head but Me-Crazy's humour was cheap enough that it made him chuckle smugly. 

"Wasn't even that funny." Brendan said, shrugging dismissively. 

"No shit, but you getting so worked up over it surely is." Me-Crazy said. 

Brendan imitated Me-Crazy's laughter in a way uglier way than it actually was but then he got so fed up as Me-Crazy only started laughing harder that Brendan swung his previous perl at him. The same perl that landed him here in first place after it collided with Aaron's jaw a few times. 

"You did not just do that..." Me-Crazy said in a low growl. Which was just fucking scary. 

Brendan slowly realised the big stupid mistake he'd just done and searched around for cover, found none and began jogging around aimlessly with Me-Crazy taking on the chase after him in the small cell. 

God fucking damn it... he really regretted now that he didn't manage to open the lock. If he did then he could outrun Me-Crazy and even alarm some cops to stack some more time on his sentence, but no. He had to let his limp dick self take over and be good for nothing. 

In no time, and close to three leaps around the cell, Brendan came crashing down on the thick cement floor. Me-Crazy landing on him right after. 

He didn't even spare some time for a little romantic chitchat to offer his alternatives to being beaten up relentlessly, it was something Deon always liked to do—pin people down and increase the thrill of the fight by asking the victim for some last words—But Me-Crazy didn't bother with such stuff and went straight to battering Brendan's face, then his shoulder and a few lunges at his stomach. 

 

. . . 

 

Brendan didn't know the moment would ever come when he'd thank a cop, but there it was; the moment he thanked a fucking cop for storming into the cell and breaking the fight up. 

Brendan got away with some minor injuries; bruises here and there a cut on his bottom lip he was nursing presently by pressing a wet napkin against it. 

It was around two pm by now and they've all been flocked together in the cafeteria for lunch. It was a sea of new faces, but most them were severely ugly faces. He couldn't spot a single guy that wasn't either beaten into ugly oblivion or obscured with tattoos so it was safe to assume he himself was the best looking lad here—Not that he prided himself with that fact, but he did cock his chin up every time he caught someone staring at him which he assumed to be jealously on their part. 

As he sat on one of the teal booths that nobody had yet occupied, an especially bad case of ugly-guy-syndrome was staring at him a table away. Brendan contemplates wether he should move up somewhere else in case it would interfere with his appetite but decided not to. 

Brendan opened the lid from his tray and smiled lightly. This shit was way better than what he got back in his shabby home, they had served him some mashed potatoes, fish fingers and even a strawberry milk. God fucking damn it. He better not let Grandpa B hear about this lest he ends up surrendering with a bunch of cocaine bags in front of a cop for a free prison stay here. 

He scooped up some of the mashed potatoes and was about to indulge himself into feeding on this delicious piece of shit when a loud clatter before him made him flinch violent and drop the fork on the tray. 

"Me-Crazy? What the hell? I thought they moved you to another cell."

Me-Crazy gave him a shit-eating grin, lowering himself on the seat Brendan had hoped would stay clear of anyone's filthy butt. But there he was, the ugly and annoying mass of flesh and pale skin that formed Me-Crazy into a person. 

"Sup, sweety." He greeted him 

"Yeah you better take those words out of your mouth if you don't wanna end up on the receiving end of my fist." Brendan greeted him back. He might've been beaten up by him not even an hour ago but that surely only damaged his body, not his ever-running mouth. 

Me-Crazy only smirked at this as he took the plastic lid from his plate and silently started eating. It was a reminder to Brendan how grotesque Me-Crazy's table manners just were, apparently this piece of scum had no clicking idea where his entrance was because he missed it at least two times, stabbing his cheek, before he brought it to his mouth. 

There was the possibility that Me-Crazy only did that to tease Brendan and ruin his appetite, and it surely worked, but Brendan still hung onto the believe that Me-Crazy was a piece of shit ape-bastard punk bitch, that's what he was!

"God fucking damnit..." Brendan muttered, holding a death-stare firmly hefted on Me-Crazy's face that was getting dirtier and dieters by the second. "I'll sit somewhere fucking else,"

He was about to stand up when Me-Crazy seized his wrist and yanked him back down. "You don't want that."

Brendan shot him a funny look. "Oh yeah? Says who, you fucking ho-" He paused just in time before the word homeless could come out of his mouth. Something that'd surely land him a visit to Aaron who was presumably in hospital. And so he quickly corrected himself. "Horse."

Me-Crazy bursted into hysterical laughter. Inmates around them turned there faces towards him and a few of the brainless ones even joined in with timid laughter. Brendan shook his head in irritation and reluctantly sat back down. 

But the laughter thankfully didn't last long. At first it died down around them and as Me-Crazy looked around, wondering why the hell they betrayed him like that so quickly, he caught sight of something and tensed up. 

Now that he stopped shoving food into his mouth in his homeless kinda way, Brendan resumed eating, picking up fish finger after fish finger till he ravished through all seven of them. When he was happily slurping on the strawberry milk, the area broke out in loud noises.

Brendan nearly choked on his milk and furiously looked up. 

This stupid fight-horny bitch was on his feet again doing what he did best; starting shit with others. As if beating up Brendan wasn't satisfying enough Me-Crazy stood with his fists in the air taking it on with the ugly guy that had previously been staring at Brendan. 

Brendan almost felt charmed by this, and had he told Me-Crazy before that this was the guy that bothered him severely, then he might've even thanked him. 

After a quick study-over Brendan knew what had started it; His ( a little better-looking ) boyfriend had apparently kissed him openly, or at least that's what the guys around Brendan were chatting wildly about like a handful of high school girls that surrounded their crush with giggles, and squeaks their shoes gave off as they got pushed towards him. 

Not that Brendan felt like they were talking about himself in a crush-love kinda way.

Back to the tumult, Me-Crazy held the ugly son of a bitch in a tight grip by the little bit of mousey hair the balding guy provided, hammering the back of his head with dull brutal thuds against the teal surface of a table which was starting to tilt the other way from the weight of the ugly guy. 

It went on quite the same after this, progressively getting worse actually, but Brendan got bored of it quickly because he was so used to Me-Crazy flipping out on some random guys. 

So when Brendan decided his body had taken enough nutrients from the generous juvy meal he dabbed his mouth clean, half-assedly thanked the lord and stood up, observed the scene with the least amount of interest and strolled back to his cell.

He was definitely not getting involved into any of this punks bullshit.


	2. Chapter Two

Once Me-Crazy returned to their cell the conversation between the two was cut short but powerful enough to stick. Brendan was already lying on the hard mattress of his bed, throwing the scrap of plastic in the air to catch it like he always did at home with handballs when he was grounded. 

Then Me-Crazy skulked in, looking pretty pleased with himself. He slumped onto his own bed and began firing punches into the mattress, presumably to make it softer, but Brendan had his doubts on how much this would really help at the end of the day. 

Brendan decided it was a good timing for a smartass comment. "Good job out there proving your intelligence," He said casually enough that Me-Crazy didn't catch onto the mock right away and turned to him with a little smile, stopping short on the mattress-battering.

"Really? How?"

Brendan waited a little before he delivered the deadpan so it had a greater impact on slapping the joy right out of this punk's pimpled face. 

"By proving it doesn't fucking exist."

To his fortune Me-Crazy only told him to fuck off before he began punching the mattress again, seemingly too excited from the fight that Brendan's words had nothing on him. 

It was also surprising that he didn't take Brendan under his fists a second time that day, but maybe that was because Me-Crazy was so satisfied by now he could turn fight-sober if he really wanted to.

Brendan didn't see his case to be lost yet. So after a little while he came up with something else. This boredom was making him creative.

"You really couldn't resist to beat that fucker up, huh? You just had to cave into your ape-descended instincts and slam his skull open."

Me-Crazy was still not bothered. He stopped the battering and collapsed onto his stomach, sighing heavenly. 

Little shit-bag.

Then, snake-like, one of his eyes slid open, fixating onto Brendan with a dangerous glimmer. "Soon I won't resist u either..." He said in that low growl again. But this time it wasn't scary in the least, just weird. 

This guy was starting to piss Brendan off severely, but maybe it was just the fact they had to spend every single day together, for all its twenty-four hours. 

God. Fucking. Damn. It.

"What does that supposed to mean," Brendan said. "Sounds like something that homo would say to his boyfriend. You know what, if you were so great you would've beaten up both."

Me-Crazy smiled sweetly and closed his eyes. "Maybe next time." And then Brendan assumed he'd fallen into a slumber because no matter what he followed up saying, he wouldn't respond. 

 

. . . 

 

The days got progressively weirder. 

And the next day didn't start with Me-Crazy because he'd left the cell long before Brendan had even woken up. Brendan had no effing idea where he possibly could've left off to, perhaps he'd somehow found a way out by this time and not taking Brendan along was his way of taking revenge for the last argument they had. 

This bitch was a petty one, after all. 

By the sink Brendan splashed some cold water into his face, feeling it cool his nervous which always seemed to stand on edge. He couldn't help it, the people around him just constantly brought him that far. 

Especially back in his block Aaron would always get into some weird things and Brendan had to deal with this, fearing day in and day out that one day Aaron would manage to ruin Brendan's reputation somehow, turning his status as the cool guy down to a sad loser.

And lastly he succeeded, by coming out as the gay one.

Fuck.

He honestly didn't understand why Aaron had to do it. He meant, it couldn't be that fucking hard to just stay straight with the bomb ass girlfriend he had? But no, Aaron wanted to pull the special-me card and ruin everything by fooling around with the Thomas kid. 

Brendan splashed another handful of water into his face but this time he felt himself heatening up again instead of the opposite effect he craved. 

This motherfucker! 

Thomas Reyes could burn in hell for doing that to his best friend. Brendan always knew those damned Joey Rosa kids were only there for trouble and their name only spoke for themselves, the way how gay it sounded to the ears. 

Brendan flung his hang towards the tap to turn it off, but stubbed his finger in the process and so he jumped around the room for a while, swearing his mouth off. 

When the pain wore off he pulled his shirt back on and exited the room to seek the lounging room where all the other residents were probably watching TV already. And who knew, maybe that's exactly where Me-Crazy left off. 

As Brendan stepped over the threshold he was suddenly grabbed by a pair of clammy ass palms, getting his ass dragged all the fucking way back and pinned on the cement wall. Everything in one dizzying motion. 

He blinked excessively, wondering what motherfucker had the nerve to do that.

"Yo, what's ur fucking problem! Comin' here for some gay action?" He snapped in a state of irritation. "Guess what, you came down a cell too late, the gay couple is one farther up."—your ass. He thought but then decided not to say because maybe this guy already knew that information.

Brendan didn't recognise the guy. How could he? He usually made a big circle around the ugly ones and this dude right there definitely belonged to that category of his shit-list; greasy ginger hair, rugged skin and a bad attempt of growing a beard. 

His eyes were a stark green and seemed to laser through him with a dominant energy he must have a hard time keeping up. 

"Shut that talky mouth, uh-huh? Will ya?" He said at last in the kind of way where some of his spit squirted towards Brendan's face. Fucking disgusting!

"Talky? Who the hell talks like this," Brendan said. "And like I said, no gay shit here. You definitely came to the wrong cell."

"Is that so?" Gay ginger returned with a wit that had Brendan nearly choking on his own spit. He had to give him that. "Because for a straight guy you seem to have a lot of homosexual thoughts spinning around in your mind. I haven't even talked with you for a minute and you must've said the word gay a billion times by now."

Brendan felt his ears heatening up and saw himself beaten. He definitely underestimated that guy and now as a consequence he was forced to suck up his more than embarrassing loss. 

Ginger smiled with a slightly parted mouth, slammed Brendan's shoulder against the wall and then let go off him. 

"Come for none gay shit, first off. Second of, here's some weed and you're gonna deal it around, then come back to me once done,"

Like hell he was!

"Pfft, you'll bet i keep half." Brendan said, rubbing his aching shoulder. The guy seemed to mock him for this because his smirk momentarily widened as he watched his hand, then he stopped all at once. 

"Whatever, just watch that u collect the paper." He flung something on his bed—a small bag made of black plastic, the ones people use to collect dog poo in it. "Cell nine," He followed it up and left in the next beat.

At first Brendan assumed this was a prank where he'd find this dude's poop in the bag upon opening, but once he actually opened it he was greeted with the humongous smell of weed, and his belly fluttered with butterflies at the familiar scent. 

It was almost lovely to him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sup everyone, here's with yet another chapter. In the beginning of this I tried to get more into Brendan's head and work out why he did what he did to Aaron. Honestly I didn't agree how the boys on either sides have acted on this issue so I made an attempt to look further into this from the other point of view ( The supposed bad one, given if Aaron is on the good side )

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brendan decided a quick visit to the toilets would be appropriate, after all it was advised you went six times a day to feed the rats with your concentrated piss, or something. 

And luckily enough this juvie was a rather good one where they spared you from having a toilet in the room, and put them in a separate public restroom instead. 

Unluckily, he ran into a pair of guys who leant with their shoulders against the tiled wall at the very back, sending trails of smoke from the whites of their cigarettes to the little vent under the ceiling. 

The fact of them being somewhat decent looking gave them the privilege of a rare smile from Brendan, which actually meant so much as I know I look young and like you could easily take it on with me but pls don't, I'm actually a pretty cool guy if you don't mess with me. Chill?

A nod from the latino dude said so much as a Chill. back in agreement so Brendan relaxed and strolled inside, hands put away into the pockets of his pants which seemed so long a girl named Alice could plunge inside and disappear into some strange remake of wonderland where instead of giant plants the only plant that grew there were humongous marijuana plants, and white rabbits had red eyes because of the weed they smoked in buckets of worth.

Fuck he had some weird thoughts. No wonder Aaron was his best friend, that dude was equally as weird, but more. 

Speaking of weed, he'd taken it along with him and once the guys felt talking, with a random black kid in the stall close-by, was too fishy they left the restroom altogether, leaving Brendan with the perfect situation to blaze one up like on the good days when best friends bothered to fill you in on shit opposite to sneaking around your back and once you turned around you were slapped in the face with the cold hard truth they've decided to hide from you. 

Alright so, he was aware that his actions couldn't exactly be justified and put into a good light—helping the case of getting your best friend beaten close to death by including Me-fucking-Crazy into your mugging-crew—That was definitely shitty, no doubts about it.

But having spent enough time, staring at the blackness of the ceiling to ponder where he went wrong, he figured that Aaron Soto wasn't all holy himself. 

Like he'd said, it was a total slap in the face, one moment there's Aaron's dad killing himself, then Aaron himself attempting to take off after him by slashing his wrist, then he seems all happy with his girlfriend, then fucking not, and then this Thomas kid is being rubbed under Brendan's noise and Aaron claims to love him...

Dude!

He was more surprised that it wasn't Brendan himself who made the final punch to send Aaron to hospital. He was clearly fucking with his mind.

He stubbed the half-smoked joint out on the toilet stall's wall, wrapped it around two leafs of toilet paper before he tucked it back into the dog-shit-plastic bag. 

He was going to use half of the weed himself. And fuck, for juvie weed it was really good stuff, better than at home anyway. The rest he'd live up to his expectations with, scatter it among the inmates in exchange for money and bring that money to Ginger boy like the good obedient weed-boy Brendan was.

Honest thought—he had no clue why Ginger couldn't just do it himself, it wasn't exactly the hardest job to do. But since it gave Brendan tasty benefits of smoking the ugly sides of the prison sentence away from his mind, he gladly did it with no second thoughts whatsoever. 

 

 

When he left the restrooms and passed by his cell he noticed Me-Crazy leaning with his elbows against the railing of the upper catlwak, looking totally bummed. 

Brendan didn't even contemplate wether he should ask him if he's alright because first of all, Me-Crazy wouldn't tell him that anyway. And second of all, Brendan himself hated awkward shit like this which involved talking about emotions and all that sentimental stuff which always did it's job in blowing the mood. 

But then out of the blue Me-Crazy voluntarily spoke up. "Can't believe it... they let gay couple get off earlier."

Brendan looked around, weighting his chances that maybe Me-Crazy was speaking to himself and didn't even know Brendan was still there behind him, but before he could make his clever escape Me-Crazy turned around, crossed his arms in front of him and locked his eyes on Brendan. So he actually was speaking to him. Great.

"Who gives a shit. Maybe they've just been here long enough, and lucky to leave just when you came to sit your time out." Brendan shrugged lamely.

The ongoing stare Me-Crazy delivered onto Brendan's body went on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Brendan shifted from one foot to the other until he could literally not stand it anymore and so ventured, "I gotta job now, wanna help out turning some plant green into paper green?"

"Cops order inmates to deal weed now?" Me-Crazy asked, holding eye contact for a moment before his eyes went back to traveling all over Brendan's body. It made Brendan's blood boils silently, but he wasn't too keen of making a scene now so he simply let it go. 

"Yeah," He said in a pressed tone through gritted teeth. "They do, crazy, huh?" He let this sit for a while before he broke in with the hard truth. "Of course they don't, stupid. Another inmate was nice enough to share it with me. So down?"

"Ain't definitely not your slave. Have fun alone." Brendan let out a sigh of relief as Me-Crazy finally stopped with those dumb once-overs which must've been hundred-overs by now, and turned to leave. 

Fucking weirdo. 

 

. . . 

 

It was tough finding fun in dealing when your customers are plain ugly. Brendan spent most of the time burning aches into his cheek with the fake smiles he delivered. Then once he was left with only his half of weed and a few dollars in his pants he went back up to his cell. 

Apparently tomorrow the cops would force them all into assigned tasks, and just the mentioning of it sent waves of dread through Brendan's stomach. 

Working just wasn't fun. Sometimes he wished he was a girl so he could marry himself away to a rich guy and never having to step a foot into the work force. But that was gay so he stopped wishing that. 

When he stepped into his cell he thought it was empty, the beds stood by the walls in the former messy state he'd left as, a droplet of water was dropping against the sink every few seconds, but then Me-Crazy stepped seemingly out of nowhere, seized him by his upper arms and pressed a rushed kiss on Brendan's lips which felt like a stone being flung at him. 

Brendan groaned, wide-eyed and inserted all his power into his hands as he pushed Me-Crazy off him, staring at him in bewilderment as he staggered a few steps backwards towards the open door.

"J-Just what the hell are you doing?!" He yelled shrilly enough to alarm the nearest guards patrolling by. But nobody came for his rescue. 

He was bound to deal with yet another confused friend who thought he'd turned gay. Is that how it started for Aaron as well? Scaring the crap out of another innocent fella with a purdy kiss. 

Hell, maybe Aaron even had a crush on Brendan and Brendan had this magic power to turn straight confused guys into gay confused guys. 

He promised himself he'd try this power on Baby Freddie once he was out of here, just for the piss of it. 

But until then he had to deal with Me-Crazy, who stood there with his arms hanging to his sides, not looking in the least embarrassed.

"Why did y-you—" Brendan stopped because he felt himself about to throw up from the new feeling in his stomach if he wouldn't give himself a break. 

He pressed his eyes closed, let out an exasperated shaky exhale, and continued with still closed eyes, "Why did you kiss me." His voice was unnaturally firm, like a low warning at Me-Crazy that Brendan was about to beat his ass wound if he didn't deliver a good enough explanation for that kiss. 

"Chill. I'm just getting us the fuck out of here. that's what!" 

The calm tone in his voice brought Brendan farther up the edge. His fists curled solid at his sides.

"You can't seriously....believe the reason they were let out is because they were two fags?! Like some kind of gay privilege...?!"

"What if I do?"

Brendan sighed severely. "Then you're bluntly stupid! Jeezus fucking christ, you're out of your goddamned mind."

He spit towards the sink, which was a move Me-Crazy certainly wasn't happy about. It must've been like calling him gross to his face, and so the hard punch to Brendan's arm wasn't something he didn't see coming. 

But for some reason a little pain after an act of softness—a gay kiss—brought Brendan down a few notches, enough that he could continue the argument in a much calmer way. 

"Dude, sorry if it hurts your feelings, but I'm not kissing another dude. Never. Not even if it gets me out of here earlier. Can you cope?"

To his surprise Me-Crazy only shrugged. "Fine." He said. "I get someone else then."

He strolled over to the door, leaving Brendan behind him in the middle of the room with his jaw hanging low. He knew he was being irrational but this almost felt like a rejection to him, like he expected that if Me-Crazy actually liked him then Brendan must've surely been worth making a bigger deal about instead of just leaving like it didn't matter?

"Do that!" Brendan yelled after him. "Go get yourself a nice cute Twink with a bubble gum butt! And don't even bother coming hom–to the cell tonight before you fucked him dumb!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, collapsing backwards onto his bed. Juvie was making him go nuts.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Warning for my christian readers; this is where all the innocent stuff ends and the NSFW starts. I'm awfully sorry about this. It's just really fun to write lol XD

 

 

Brendan supposed Me-Crazy had taken his advice to heart because he stayed gone all day and so Brendan went to bed alone that night. Throughout the whole day he didn't do much else besides lurking around the cafeteria, avoiding conversations with ugly guys as best as he managed, and lounged in the TV room. 

So when he finally got to his bed, he took his shirt off, feeling the cooled down blanket flow against his chest like a gusty spring breeze and decided this was the best moment he'd get to jack off peacefully in Me-Crazy's absence.

The image of Me-Crazy fucking some ugly twink rolled into his mind and he began to chuckle quietly. This would just be fucking hilarious, wouldn't it? The neighbourhoods homophobe turning gay once locked away from the rest of the world where nobody would ever know he was staring at briefs until they flopped to the cement floor, got on his stubby knees to meet his tongue with the erection, lick the guy up and down with experimental and shameless flicks he'd seen in porn before and decided to try like an amateur pornstar, until the guy on the receiving end of his tongue magic uttered the faintest trace of a moan...

Brendan moaned involuntarily. 

He noticed that he was still stroking himself as he thought about Me-Crazy giving out blowjobs, and his face took on a stone-hard expression. He quickly switched to thinking about hot girls, round boobs, silky hair and soft hands just made for the perfect blowjobs.

But for some reason it was rather hard to come up with such thoughts and make them visionary enough so he could practically experience it in the same way he did after watching some porn. 

He always did it that way at home; watch some porn till he felt his dick touching his pants, blackout his phone screen, dive into bed with sexy scenes tumbling about his mind and used nothing but a hand and down fantasies to get the job done—This made him feel more in control than just watching it on screen. 

Maybe it's because he'd spent the last week among boys only, and the only women he'd seen was a single guard who wasn't exactly fap-material... 

The TV! He remembered the hot girl he'd seen on there, but it was a cartoon character, and he was definitely not into that kinda shit. 

Goddamn it...

Me-Crazy crept back into his mind and for a second he contemplated if he should just suppress anything he thought wrong about jacking off to his friend and go ahead do it. But then his morals took over that decision and he just concentrated on his dick. No fantasies, just the process how his hand embracing his shaft, moving up and down, up and down. 

Wasn't that bad actually. A little plain, sure, but that's the natural way of doing it, after all. And if you wanted you could make this situation kinky by imagining you're a cavemen. 

Brendan was in the process of imagining himself as a tormented stinky, broad cavemen, fapping inside his stony cave when the oily creak of the door made him freeze up and press dick to his lower stomach so that whoever was there wouldn't be greeted with the outline of a dick holding the blanket up into a small fort. 

He suppressed another moan that was stuck in his throat. Nearly getting caught was definitely one of his turn-ons, and this moment was definitely not an exception. 

Sometimes he touched himself at home with the door open because he liked the thrill of knowing his grandpa was next door and could walk in at any given time. 

But now someone was actually there and he was freaking out silently. 

"What are you doing?"

Brendan could've almost sighed in relief upon hearing Me-Crazy's voice. He'd expected the worst and thought Ginger had come over to get the money off of him, and if he'd seen the boner then went on to rape him before he left. 

But this was only Me-Crazy and there was nothing to worry about that fact. 

Expect yes. There was something worrisome about this... And that was his boner which was still full-on pressing against his palm almost aggressively, and he felt himself pulsating with the nagging desire to orgasm. Even better if he came sneakily under the blanket while he was talking to Me-Crazy. It took him all his strength not to stroke himself there and then. 

"What's it look like, you punk," Brendan said, openly addressing his boner. He didn't really give a shit if Me-Crazy knew, that would be his problem if he felt uncomfortable with that. Brendan was just helping himself. 

"Dunno, Me-Crazy thinks you're doing fag shit," Me-Crazy said and Brendan could've hit him right then for talking about himself in third person. It was so fucking childish. 

"It's only gay now that you've cut in with your voice and ruined the visionary," Brendan countered. 

Me-Crazy shrugged. "Whatever." 

Brendan was about to pride himself in the fact that he owned him one up in that argument, when Me-Crazy suddenly walked over with a smug grin plastered on his face. 

"What are you doing," Brendan asked in an alarmed tone.

"Me-Crazy wants to see..." 

"Get the hell outta here, man. I'm already slump anyways. Good night." Brendan rolled over onto his side, facing the wall, and thankfully Me-Crazy retreated to his own bed. 

For some reason Brendan felt a little disappointed by this but this feeling was quickly replaced as he heard a suspicious sound from behind him—the rustling of the detention blanket, nasty skin on skin contact. 

Brendan sucked his teeth. "You're not serious, are you?"

Me-Crazy sniggered dirtily in response and continued absolutely shamelessly with what Brendan had already stopped doing.

"Creepy fucking motherfucker..." Brendan muttered under his feverish breath. 

 

. . . 

 

Of course Brendan wasn't gonna sit there with a guy jerking off on the opposite side of the room. So he searched for the scrap of plastic, found it by the leg of his bed and took it with him to the restroom. 

It was eerily empty, and a bit of blue moonlight managed to sneak from the barred windows high up the walls and slanted into an oblong shape across the ground. Just about enough lightning that he didn't have to ruin the mood by flicking on those unbearably assaulting fluorescents overhead. 

Yeah, he did still have a boner. But jerking off was not the only reason he came here for. He wanted to test out a theory that he'd been thinking about ever since Me-Crazy popped into his mind whilst fapping. 

That's why he brought the scrap of plastic. 

It was nothing special; about the size of a girls hair clip, chalk white and could be bend slightly without breaking. But the only thing that mattered was he could cut himself on the sharp end with—No, he was not going to pull a Aaron and slash a bracket across his wrist. He was also not going to insert this into his ass, fuck no. 

He nudged every single stall open, peered inside to make sure he was alone and settled by the last one where he closed the toilet seat and sat down as comfortably as the hard surface allowed him to. 

Then he pulled his pyjama bottoms down—some grey ones, covered in more black lint balls than a sky offered stars—and was greeted by his dick as it sprang out eagerly, pointing to the ceiling. 

He was still hard as a rock. Someone must've spiked his strawberry milk with Viagra, or his dick was just confused like the rest of his crew. ( Aaron. Now Me-Crazy. And Baby Freddie anyway, that dude was in a constant state of confusion. ) He couldn't explain his resilient state of arousal otherwise. 

The moment he touched the head with his fingertip he swooned a little, feeling like he would melt into a puddle of his own self any time. 

It was so tempting to just finish it off there and then, shoot a train of hot white cum at the stall door in front of him and watch it slide down slowly while he was recovering of the heights an orgasm put you through.

But he bit his bottom lip in determination and placed the sharp edge of the plastic on his thigh. Waited. And jerked it towards himself, tearing an inch of skin open.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: If you noticed I used the surname "Smart" for Brendan because Adam Silvera didn't mention his name in the book and that's the first thing I came up with lmao. 

Also it makes his initials be BS which seems appropriate 

 

 

That sucked ass! That hurt like a trucker!

Brendan had no clicking idea why he thought slashing his thigh open would be a good idea to see if he was a masochist, but once the skin was parted and pearls of blood formed all along the fresh throbbing wound, he knew that that's not what he was. 

The speed at which his boner declined and sagged quicker than a helium balloon being popped cold out of air with a pin needle, was the written truth that Brendan Smart was definitely not a masochist. 

He was damned to a life of missionary positions and blowjobs. And that was just fine to him as long as he'd never have to experience this excruciating pain anymore that brought him to tears and made him cry out loud. In the next moment he was crying like a little bitch, sobbing hysterically. 

And as if that was no enough, once the pain subsided and continued as a mild pulse on his thigh, the image of Dave still lying in the detention bed, touching himself with a smug grin came floating about Brendan's eyes. 

Brendan could feel his own dick responding to this by curving back into its solid state in the shape of a smile right on his lap that seemed to ridicule him for thinking about one of his male friends like that. 

Someone he'd know since he was little, someone he'd watched doing all kinds of dumb and embarrassing shit like pissing his own pants because he didn't want to be a copycat and piss at the stairs like Skinny-Dave did, or fart as he stood in line where he was already embarrassing himself by buying condoms for a stupid dare. 

Fuck.

This was all suddenly getting to Brendan. The way he seemed to be haunted by those thoughts and assaulted by his own dick that seemed to force him with a nagging need to jack off... 

He let go off a hysteric cry of frustration then stomped his feet against the ground like a little kid throwing a tantrum after not getting through with his will. 

Being trapped in his own skin suddenly felt unbearable to him. 

 

On his way back to the cell Brendan souped the snot back up his nose aggressively, a sound that echoed throughout the hall and a inmate responded quietly with "Little bitch, suck it up."

Brendan thought that was just right. He was a little bitch after that stunt. Oh god. 

He wondered if the noise of said stunt had been audible to anyone but once he turned the corner to his cell he didn't bothered about any of this. Simply because Me-Crazy was sitting up on his bed like he'd been waiting for him, quirking a brow up as he entered. 

"You been crying?" He asked, no doubt making fun of him already. 

"Yeah. Now fuck off." Brendan made a B-line to his bed and collapsed into it with his face landing right into the pillow and his arms sprawling out before him. 

He heard Me-Crazy laughing quietly and for himself from the other side of the cell and Brendan hoped he was fucking happy with the information that Brendan had been a little bitch that night. 

 

. . . 

 

The next morning at 9 AM they were rudely waken up by the unfappable female guard as she slapped her ring of keys against the bars, shattering everyone in hear-range out of their dreams with her ringing voice. 

"Up, up, up, boys! You've got a task assigned for today."

"We don't wanna do shit!" Brendan responded, voice muffled by his pillow. He felt something fall onto his back and grunted. 

Upon craning his neck he found out it was Me-Crazy throwing Brendan's shoes at him to get up. Me-Crazy himself was surprisingly looking pretty content about this all. He was already dressed in his detention clothes, but his hair was uncombed and it didn't seem like he was gonna do anything about this any time soon either. Typical.

"Well, there ain't much you can do about that, son." The guard reply and huffed in a parrot-like laugh. For being that early in the morning this was a disturbing sound to hear and definitely ruined Brendan's mood before he was even able to form judgement about it. 

"Get up, son." Me-Crazy taunted him, imitating the stance of the guard who was standing with her shoulders leaned backward because the many layers of fat on her stomach gave her trouble walking. 

Brendan always wondered why guards that let themselves go like that don't lose their jobs, after all its easier to take it on with a fat cop than a fit one. 

"Make me," Brendan dared him and regretted it in the next moment because after all he was talking to Me-Crazy and talking to Me-Crazy always brought certain risks with it. Like being grabbed by your leg and forcefully torn out of the little comforts a prison bed could provide.

Brendan grunted again, rubbing his knee energetically, and he didn't even have to look to know that the wound there was open again. Just this time it wasn't a cops fault that it was bleeding. "You fucking bastard. One day even you'll fall, and you're gonna die, and regret doing shit like this because Jesus will reject you and kick your ass to hell."

"Imma make sure I'll take you along then," Me-Crazy replied with an unwavering smile. "So, get up!" He came over and stood himself astride Brendan's hips. "Or I'm gonna take a mean piss on you."

Brendan knew that he meant every word and was actually gonna do it if he wouldn't stand up, but he couldn't help but remember yesterday's thoughts in the restroom and as he lied there helplessly looking up to Me-Crazy, he felt a heatwave washing over his groan. Fuck. He couldn't get a fucking boner again. Not now.

To prevent that from happening, he boxed at Me-Crazy's knee and then laboriously wiggled himself out from between his legs because that stupid bloke wouldn't move an inch and rather watched him struggle with a sneer on his face.

God was this stupid. 

When he glumly walked out of the cell after Me-Crazy the guard just came from patrolling to the very back and front of the hallway and offered them an amusing smile. "Eh, got your friend out of the feathers after all? Good job." She patted Me-Crazy's back which had the effect that his face scrunched up with discomfort and made the walk to the office they were assigned to equally as uncomfortable. 

There the female guard thought she'd gained a buddy but turns out Me-Crazy is an unfriendly son of a bitch who would rather rip someone's head off than begin the hardship of a friendship. 

Brendan guessed he could deem himself lucky in being so great that Me-Crazy didn't mind being his friend but Brendan was still pissed from the pain in his knee that he'd rather see Me-Crazy die than appreciate their friendship.

 

The office was just as shabby as the rest of the detention center; blue window ledges with gum sticking from underneath; cement floor which didn't seem to get swept often because there was a visible layer of dirt and strips of paper strewn around. 

There wasn't much else in the room than filth, a tiny barred window under the ceiling, a sofa covered in black leather that was pealing off, and a few paper shredders. 

And as Brendan stepped foot into the room and was greeted with the overpowering smell of wet chalk, he knew what they had to do here before the female guard even shoved a bunch of Leteo pamphlets into their hands.

"Those are outdated pamphlets from the Leteo institute, they've printed new ones with more warnings on them, maybe you got air of that. There's a few shredders, the blue one doesn't work so you use the other ones that do work." She caught her breath. "If you're done, just shout my name from the door, I'll be right around the corner. Name's Officer Shelly. Got that?"

"Why do we have to do that?" Brendan complained, sullenly looking at the pamphlets in his hands. Destroying this batch would definitely not take him less than fifteen minutes, and this lead him to believe they'd be here for a whole while. 

Officer Shelly laughed merrily. "Because," She drawled out the word. "You've done a very bad thing, and as it's so fortunate that your case had to do with Leteo that's an even better opportunity to think about what you've done. Any questions?"

Me-Crazy raised his hand slowly.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Do you got any condoms here?"

Officer Shelly broke out laughing so hard Brendan thought she was gonna have a cardiac arrest at any moment. When she calmed down a little and only giggled thenceforth, she gestured towards the left. 

"Actually, yes! Right there on the dispenser." She brought a handkerchief out and wiped her wrinkly eye area dry with it. "Oh, you got me there, little rascal. And I'm not even gonna ask what you'll do with them. That's your business." She cleared her throat and put the handkerchief away. "Now then, carry on with your task. Call me when you're finished."

When she left and the door clicked shut Brendan turned to Me-Crazy with a frown, asking why the hell he needed condoms for but he only shrugged in reply. Must've to do with the guy he'd courted, Brendan concluded.


	6. Chapter 6

Brendan pushed his seventh pamphlet into the slot of the shredder and watched with a bummed out expression as it came out in strips from the other side, spitting in a papery mix on the waste bucket. 

He could kick that damn thing, it was so stupid and he didn't understand why they couldn't just throw it away without bothering to shred it first. Like what, were they gonna use that to wrap presents with? Brendan hoped they damn well wrapped him a present with that, after all the was the one doing all the work. 

Me-Crazy hadn't even started on his batch yet, he was too busy goofing around on the condom dispenser. Whenever he took one out he'd blow it up and rub it against his arm, making theatrical moaning noises. 

Brendan really didn't give a shit that he did that but he prepared to tell him to fuck off in case Me-Crazy asked him shredding his batch. Brendan would definitely not take on extra work, fuck that!

The thought of this scenario playing out made him so steamy of anger that he didn't even notice when Me-Crazy finally settled by a black shredder, the second next after Brendan's, and whistled cheerfully as he took one pamphlet to feed it to the shredder. 

"What makes you so happy?" Brendan grumbled. For some reason Me-Crazy's mood was pissing him off. It was almost like Brendan couldn't bear seeing other people happy if Brendan couldn't have a part in it. 

"Leteo brings good memories..." He said and sighed happily. He opened a pamphlet, scanned it over thought Brendan doubted he was actually reading it, before he carelessly shoved it into the shredder, nearly blocking because it was already busy with the other pamphlet.

Good memories meaning when they've beaten up Aaron? That's fucked up...

"Yeah, sure. It reminds me there's a possibility out there for me to forget about you completely one day." Brendan deadpanned, fake-smiling when Me-Crazy briefly looked up at him. 

But then despite himself Me-Crazy smiled too. "Why? Cuz you feel bad for crushing on Me-Crazy."

This made Brendan snort loudly. "If that makes you sleep at night, yup, that, Dave."

"Which Dave?"

"Comma before Dave." Brendan rolled his eyes. "You, dumbass."

Me-Crazy frowned at nothing for awhile like he had trouble remembering that this was his name and not Me-Crazy, then when it seemed to click he resumed to shred the pamphlets. His stack was already smaller than Brendan's even though he had started long after him. 

Brendan looked at his own stack, sighed, and then got a brilliant idea which was totally worth asking for it. "If you're done with yours, wanna do mine?"

"Okay."

"Okay?" Brendan's eyes widened, then realising he was being too delighted, he put on a more serious expression. "You really wanna?"

"I do, Brendan."

"Wow, that's... nice." Brendan couldn't withhold the little smile that was tendering his lips and held the stack up as Me-Crazy came over to retrieve it from him. "But how come?"

Me-Crazy smiled innocently. "Because girls always need guy's help for everything."

Yeah, of course. He wouldn't just do something nice if there wasn't something he could gain out of it, like making a joke out of Brendan. But that was fine with Brendan because he would've done the same and at least it cut his work in half. 

"Oh, whatever. Just take it already." Brendan wiggled the stack lazily, got impatient and simply lobbed it at Me-Crazy's chest whose reflexes were so sharp he caught it right away, slapping his hands on it. 

Being relieved of the monotone task, Brendan walked over to the sofa and slumped into the soft cushion unceremoniously. This was definitely a comfortable piece, something you'd want to have sex in. Brendan wondered quietly if there was any inmates previous to them who had gotten the same task handed out and possibly fucked around—literally—instead of doing the task.

Probably.

His gaze fell on Me-Crazy, who wore the happy expression on his face of before but Brendan could barely see it because he was turned away from him. Which was just right. 

Then Brendan's gaze fell a little farther down, to his hands—They made him want to scream DADDY. Shit okay no, but they were indeed kinda nice. Well-formed and big anyway, would probably feel fantastic cupped around one's little head.

They must be radiating with warmth, too. Me-Crazy probably always finished off so quick—at least that's what he always claimed—because just touching himself briefly with those hands did half the job. Fuck. 

If Brendan thought about it, he'd legit say Daddy if Me-Crazy asked him to, just for the fact that he did the work for him shredding those damn pamphlets. That was indeed really nice of him, niceness was kinda a turn-on as well. Right after nearly getting caught. 

Brendan wasn't aware he was somewhat checking Me-Crazy out until Me-Crazy glanced over his shoulder, locked eyes with him and winked saucily. 

But Brendan's nerves were already burned out and needed some rest before they could go off again in high flames so he just pretended he didn't see it by closing his eyes and shifting around a little to make himself more comfortable. 

He could feel Me-Crazy's eyes still lingering on him, like they did back on the catwalk. 

And he didn't want to admit this because it felt weird to, and definitely wrong, but for some reason it didn't bother Brendan as it did back then, the opposite actually. It felt good that his sexy body was getting the recognition it deserved. 

When he shifted around for a second time, he spread his legs a little, suggestively, and hoped this piece of shit would be cursed with the same kinds of boners Brendan has been getting. 

To check if his feelings of being watched were coming from a paranoid background or a reliable third sense, Brendan pried one eye open just enough so he could see Me-Crazy through the blur of his lashes. And there he was, turned away by now, but there was no hint of the former happiness anymore, he was more of looking constipated. 

Brendan decided it'd be funny if he could startle him with his voice so he spoke up randomly. "Say," 

Me-Crazy jumped a little which made Brendan smile, satisfied. 

"About yesterday." He went on. "Did you actually find someone?"

"Think so,"

Oh he did?

"You think so?"

Me-Crazy shrugged. "He isn't sure yet but he'd like me to bang him once and properly to help change his decision towards it. He's pretty hot himself—Got a bubble butt."

"You should've just fucked Aaron instead of beating him up. Sounds like you needed that."

Me-Crazy stopped shredding for a moment and pressed out a really dirty chuckle from slightly parted lips. "Heh, yeah, probably."

 

. . . 

 

Brendan had no idea where he was once he opened his eyes the next time. It took him a few blinks to realise he'd fallen asleep on the sofa, and just as he was about to ask Me-Crazy what time it was the door swung open. 

"Getting tired here?" Officer Shelley's voice ringed through, she walked inside, checked the waste buckets then stood by the threshold with her arms propped. "Now then, you've done quite the work here. So I guess you could easily handle another load, huh?"

At the mentioning of more work Brendan's face paled. He was ready to head down for lunch, his stomach was already growling but a brief glance at the digital clock over the door informed him that they've only been stuck here for eighteen minutes, yet it felt like centuries had passed since he'd lastly seen his cell. 

Me-Crazy just watched indifferently as Officer Shelly got outside again and shortly after, heavily puffing from the exercise, walked backwards into the room, tugging a small forklift after herself which carried a shitload of Leteo pamphlets on it, wrapped up neatly in plastic. 

Holy...

"That's about it. Do these and you're done for the day."

Shit.

As soon as she left the two boys alone with the forklift in the middle of the room, the terror started. Brendan pulled himself to his feet, flipped the door off where Shelly had exited, and then, without a second though he inserted all his power into one foot and kicked the pamphlet tower away. It only titled slightly but he sent another kick out right after and with a dull smack it tumbled to the ground. 

The plastic was apparently stuck on the long fork because with a searing sound it zipped in half, causing the pamphlet to spill into a giant mess on the floor. 

After the first racket was over, Brendan's shouts started up another one. His fists were clenched on both sides as he shouted from the top of his lungs. 

"I just wanna go home! This is fucking bullshit! I don't deserve any of this! Aaron had it coming either way, I only pushed that moment up earlier, What's wrong with people!" 

At the last word his voice shrilled into a high pitch and then cracked abruptly. He was having a full-on tantrum, pulling at his hair in the next moment. 

It took him a full five minutes to come down a little from the intensity of his feelings and as soon as he leaned against the door he noticed Me-Crazy staring at him like he'd just witnessed a demon crawling out of Brendan, and that's kinda exactly how Brendan felt about this situation.

Me-Crazy blinked, rose to a stand, and like their eyes had silently agreed upon this, he walked over to Brendan wordlessly and jammed their lips together. 

Any other time Brendan would've likely pushed him away, but then he was taken under such a strong wave of lust that resisting felt impossible, and Me-Crazy's lips too delicious. So he gladly reciprocated the kiss, willingly letting them molest his, and kissed back with way more fiercety than this piece of shit before him had in him. 

Me-Crazy held Brendan's cheeks in his warm palms almost lovingly, but Brendan ruined that delusion by pushing and pressing his crotch into Me-Crazy's. To hell would he do this gentle and soft, that was for pansies. It was go hard or go home, and in Me-Crazy's case; Go hard AND go home because Brendan was for sure not gonna stick around after indulging into this bullshit—He promised himself that.

Me-Crazy read his body langue fairly quickly, almost in record time, and stopped with the gay shit by bringing his hands down and digging with his blunt fingernails into Brendan's hips instead, causing Brendan to give off a stifled moan. 

"Do that again, but louder." Came Me-Crazy's husky voice close by his ear and Brendan almost did moan, but decided he'd have to try harder to get something out of him. 

"Make me..." He teased him. Not having learned from his mistakes of earlier the outcome was almost predictable; Me-Crazy body-slammed Brendan into the heap of Leteo pamphlets, waited till Brendan had collected himself enough before Me-Crazy climbed over to him and straddled his hips. He began rutting against him. 

"Piece of shit," Brendan muttered.

"Bet." 

His back was aching a little and he must've cut his elbow on the paper but all that went forgotten quickly as Me-Crazy's body pressing against his own gave him a pleasant distraction. He moaned softly, grabbing hold of Me-Crazy's neck by locking his hands behind it, and brought his lips down to crush them with his own. 

Me-Crazy immediately went on devouring his salvia as his tongue slipped through Brendan's plump lips and made love with his tongue in the closed space of his mouth. His warm palms raked up Brendan's shirt, going exploring. 

Now those filthy hands definitely didn't deserve to touch this hot dark skin but there they were and Brendan made an exception for them to roam all around because they felt so freaking good on him. 

He followed up on their movements by propping up each body part they passed, his shoulders, chest, hipbone, his dick under the material of his pyjama bottoms. ( Yeah he still wore them and miraculously enough Officer Shelly didn't make him change into his day pants. )

Me-Crazy kissed him again when he wormed his way into Brendan's pants and began fondling his rock-hard dick. This was way better than daydreaming in the toilet stalls, and Brendan let him know that by moaning which sent vibrations against Me-Crazy's lips. 

Me-Crazy leaned back, seemingly satisfied with his work, and let his eyes roam longingly all over Brendan's body who laid panting and sprawled out underneath him. 

"Bring it on then," He managed between pants, licking his lips which felt a little dry from all the kissing. 

"I guess." Me-Crazy shrugged, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of his pants and leisurely tugged them downwards, revealing something Brendan was only able to enjoy for two seconds before Me-Crazy took his view away from it by grinding back between Brendan's legs, locking their lips.

But that was just about fine with Brendan because the new feeling of his hard cock against his own was way too out of this world. He squeezed a hand between their bellies, reached their dicks and began to embrace them more tightly together. The added warmth of Me-Crazy's dick made him feel like he was going to cum any moment.

He stroked them up and down as good as it was possible from being sandwiched between two bellies, feeling the two slightly different textures of the skin rubbing against his palm.

And then it was all too unbearable for him and with a suffocated groan he allowed his dick to reach the hazy heights of the orgasm, white cum splashing onto his convulsing stomach. Me-Crazy laughed at this but jokes on him because he was a close second and added into the pool of cum. 

Brendan waited out till the blinding lights cleared back into the shabby office before he rolled out from underneath Me-Crazy to toy around with one of the pamphlets.

He couldn't quite comprehend what he'd just done. Like fuck, that was close to having fucked a guy, awfully close. And this fact might haunt him for the rest of his life. He could feel his heart still racing it out, drumming uncomfortably against the cement floor. 

From next to him came the sound of pamphlets being scraped aside and then Me-Crazy lied down next to him, faintly touching his shoulder with his own. 

"More later? In bed?"

Despite what they'd just done this offer totally threw Brendan off. He noticed that he was tearing scraps from the pamphlet away and sent it flying to the corner. He stared at it for the longest time before he blew out air, and shrugged finally. "If you can get my dick hard,"

"I'll try." And then Me-Crazy leaned forward and concealed his promise with a kiss, which Brendan couldn't help but smirk against.


	7. Shower Babe

Miraculously enough Officer Shelly didn't get wind of the loud noises making a warzone out of the blue window-silled office. She only noticed what happened to the precious blocks of pamphlets—the assault on them—once she returned to the office half an hour later to inform the boys they're up to par and could head for lunch.

But that was cut short as she saw the mess which got her doubled over, and looked like she'd convulse any second even though her face stayed relatively calm—It were probably the vibes she gave off that made Brendan think she'd burst and make a show of her fat spraying around if one of them just dare say something wrong. Maybe cops get a special training how to react to those situations—calm and sane—because Brendan knew for sure he'd beat any fucker up that messed with him like this. 

She ordered them back to either head back to their cells or get down to lunch and so Me-Crazy and Brendan saw themselves out, walking around her broad figure which blocked the middle of the entrance. 

For the first few steps along the hallway, which seemed degrees cooler then, it was awkward.

Dave was being pretty casual, walked with a bored look on his face like nothing happened while Brendan next to him, lagging a step behind, was paranoid to get rid of any evidence that could give their spontaneous lay away as he plucked and brushed at his clothes, straightening away any suspicious folds and creases.

But then in front of their cell, their eyes met and the mischievous sparkle mirroring them both got them cracking up into a reckless mix of their laughter that echoed down the long hallway, probably audible to the inmates in the cafeteria.

This shit was just way too fucking hilarious. Officer Shelly must've really seen some kind of potential in those boys to get their act together and change for the better. And there they were, brazenly stomping all over her hopes like it was nothing. 

And it was nothing, Brendan thought any kinds of expectations someone put on him were pathetic, they even seemed threatening to him. As if they tried to chain him down with responsibilities he wasn't ready for, or something like that.

Brendan spoke up first, like it was usual with Me-Crazy who couldn't bother about conversation all that much. "Are you going down now? I'll need to wash that shit off me first... Don't want to reek like some fag, figures." He gestured towards his belly with one quick sweep of his hands, a feigned painful look in his face. 

Of course he'd become the victim of their sword duel bullshit ( dick version ), and now was damned with the extra task of scrubbing dried cum off himself. 

It was messed up.

"Be glad it's not actual shit. Heard that's what happens during gay sex—that you take a mean shit on each other."

Brendan shuddered at the thought. "Gay people must be hella weird then."

"Yeah, gay people..."

Brendan stared Me-Crazy down for the longest time before he realised what he was innuendoing at, and once he did, he jabbed at his arm. "Dude, nah, I def ain't the gay one if that's what you're thinking, fuckkkk no!"

Me-Crazy shrugged. "Don't give no shit. See you at lunch, or not." And then he turned away and strolled towards the stairs. His pants creased and flattened with every step, they still hung a little low with his boxers winking over the waistband. Of course he was too unbothered to pull them up, but for that he seemed ever twice as eager to pull them down—For Brendan at least.

Little piece of shit...

 

. . . 

 

Brendan had a towel parted in the middle over his arm, rubbing his slick hair dry with it as he ambled out of the showers into his cell. 

The spurts of water that had cascaded down on him for nearly ten minutes had softened his skin, made him fresher anyway, and now with the added sensitivity he caught onto the smallest traces of cold, shivering slightly. 

He loved taking his showers as hot as possible, long as he could still breath through the stream that was fogging up the atmosphere around him. It made him feel revived upon stepping back out into the cold, and that's just what he'd needed after the little scene in the office. 

He didn't really want to think about it, especially not what they had arranged for later, though he doubted they'd actually go through with it. After all that'd be hella gay.

So lost in his thoughts he reacted too late when someone grabbed him, and in the haze where he was being pulled somewhere Brendan wondered why the fuck people couldn't just leave him the fuck alone. Especially when he was just coming out of the showers looking fresher than a baby crawling out of a pussy.

But the collision with his back to the wall felt way painful than hitting your head on the medical table. Next to him slammed the bar door closed, the room dimmed, and with a glance towards the door Brendan saw that they had covered the view to the outside—or more of the guards view to the inside—with the detention blanket. 

In the next moment a light came on with a dry-licking sound and was brought to him in the form of a lit match. 

What a thrill.

"Get that shit out of my face. I'm definitely not gonna leave Juvie as a burn victim." Brendan hissed, which he realised was a dumb move because maybe that just brought new ideas into those psycho's heads—And maybe it beat whatever they had already planned to do with him. His guess: murder. ( Brendan would rather be dead than ugly. )

"You wanna break it to him? Me? Heh, okay." The guy holding the match seemingly asked to himself, which just proved Brendan's theory that he was a psycho. Talking to yourself was definitely a psycho trait, and that included talking to walls, as well. 

The person let go off Brendan, and put the match under his chin, revealing the expressionless face of Ginger, and his additional sea of freckles. 

With the darkness surrounding him it looked like a bad attempt to make the situation scary, like at a campfire when everyone is sharing horror stories—but it did kinda work. 

Brendan felt his body—which had just been deeply relaxed from the hot water—tense up. 

"So, man... Brendan Smart, huh? How was the shower?"

The phoniness of his civility made Brendan suspicious, but it wasn't like he could beam himself through the locked door, so he said, "Uh... good?" 

"Nice, nice..." Ginger nodded thoughtfully. Then slapped the real deal into Brendan's face. "Niceties aside: Where's the money."

"In my... cell." Brendan replied slowly.

"In My Cell—" Ginger aped him, contouring his face with a curled lip. "Then why ain't you bringing it over to Cell Nine? Like was promised? Don't you know that messing with a pusher is pushing yourself to a whole other mess?"

"Calm down. I can get it now, if you still want it, that is." Brendan couldn't hold back the mocking smile that was twitching at the corners of his lips. But thankfully the room was darkened and Ginger didn't seem to notice it.

"You're wondering if I still want it? I push you inna cell, eclipse it, and you little fucker still wonder if I still want the moneh'?"

For god's sake, what's the deal with this guy? 

"I said I'll get it! Just let me out!"

"The doors open. Didn't even lock it. See yourself out." Brendan turned to leave but then heard Ginger speak up again, "And no sneaky tricks like alarming the guards, this will make you a third degree burn victim in no time, hear?"

Shit. Brendan knew it was a stupid idea to give this guy ideas of what to do of him. But whatever, he had not much other choices than retrieve the cash like a good obedient dealer 

"Yeah, sure."

"And match up to your surname."

Brendan's head turned towards Ginger with a flat look but he stopped himself before he'd break loose into yet another argument, and simply left the cell without putting up a show. 

 

To Brendan's luck Brendan was the thief among the two boys sharing cell six and not Me-Crazy so he found his money where he'd left it in the cover of his pillow. 

When he stepped out again the lunch noises of silverware clacking against plates and louder arguments mixed in with the more calm murmur of inmates lingered behind him, reminding him of his growling stomach, but that'd have to wait till later. He had to finish up business. 

Back at Cell Nine Brendan tossed the bundle of money over to Ginger then crossed his arms whilst Ginger was counting it. 

Once the last bill flipped from his thumb, he looked up with the wrong expression—He was supposed to be pleased with Brendan's efforts, but he was not.

"That's only half of the money. Yep, you little scum definitely gettin' fucked. TOBIAS!"

Tobi—? Brendan's eyes widened as another guy appeared, one who was apparently just coming back from taking a piss because he was working on his pant fly. But then as time went on and the guy stopped by Ginger's side Brendan noticed with terror that he wasn't actually closing it but more of opening it, and then next thing Brendan was pinned to the wall.

Brendan almost laughed. "Oh-ho! Ye-ah, I called it you DID look for the gay coupe the other day."

"So what? You made a pretty even match to them." Ginger said nonchalantly. 

Brendan froze. "What?"

"Acting surprised? Like half of the juvie hasn't caught up to the fact pimple head is banging you black boy. Those moans coming from Office B were pretty telling..."

"You don't call him pimple head," Brendan said, the only thing that came to his mind which of course was fucking lame. 

Like seriously, who gave a shit that this dude, about to rape him, called Me-Crazy pimple head? Even Me-Crazy wouldn't give a shit unless you called him homeless. But irrational little Brendan felt more protective of Me-Crazy's emotions than his own ass—literally.

"Well then open him up to the world of skincare routines." 

And then things got more serious. The newcomer—definition of BBC—dropped his detention pants to his shoes, massaged his cock underneath his briefs with a dirty grin on his face and rounded his dark black shoulders up as he took a step towards Brendan.

These guys actually meant it when they said they'd fuck him and since Brendan never consented to it this would be classified as rape. 

He definitely didn't want to be a rape victim either!

So the only way he figured could save his reputation was consent to this bullshit. "Ye-y-yeah," he sputtered. "You can fuck me, go ahead, bad boys."

Both of them looked stunned, as if Brendan had just consented to rape. Wait, shit, that's exactly what he just did, didn't he? 

Brendan felt himself getting dizzy from all of this, so much that he had to lean against the wall for support. Maybe that was counterproductive to help save himself out of this mess, would make it easier for them to just nail him right there, anyway. 

But he couldn't do it, he couldn't stand here when all his senses were out to make him faint any second from now. 

Ginger laughed flatly, said. "Alright, then how about a double of us into your singular ass hole? I'm getting pretty wild myself here." then went on to grab his crotch, pretending to unfasten himself before he dropped the act and gave him a hard look. "What in the hell's up with you, boy. Your brain doesn't seem to work properly, does it? Get the hell out of here. I mean it."

Brendan stared at him wide-eyes then noticed the humour in the guy's eyes. It looked almost like he was fond of Brendan. Brendan hoped this would play out good for his own benefit some day. He regained his strength back enough to push himself from the wall.

"Get. Out." Ginger said. 

And fuck, Brendan didn't let him repeat himself a third time because FUCK, so he bolted out of the cell, attempting to look as calm as he could when really his heart was still knocking against his chest in pure fright over his virgin asshole. 

Fuckin hell.

 

. . . 

 

At this point Brendan was freaking STARVING. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and that was nearly five hours back.

He headed straight for the stairs after he somehow managed not getting raped in prison, and hey, day seven of not getting raped in prison! 

So he really wasn't going down in cliches yet, but this was true only until later—then it would ultimately happen once he tucked himself into bed and Me-Crazy came over for a quick fuck.

Brendan had no idea why he agreed to do this. But the prospect of allowing Me-Crazy to do that, do him, was a pretty hot thought nonetheless. He felt all flustered just thinking about it.

Brendan guessed he had a thing for psychopaths who could potentially tear a second ass hole into you and watch calmly while you bled to death underneath them. 

God damnit. 

So while he was thinking about Me-Crazy he was starting to get somewhat exited to see him in the cafeteria, until of course—He made it down to the last step and put a foot onto the cafeteria's glossy white floor and was greeted with a dreadful surprise.

Nearly all of the teal-coloured tables were swept clear because most of the inmates were assembled in the centre, crowding around three guys who were fighting it out in the small circle. 

Among them, was Me-Crazy.

Brendan immediately increased his pace till he fell into a breezy jog, and that's when he noticed from the corner of his eyes, that a guard had started into a run next to him. Though when they got closer to the scene the guard seemed to have drawn the conclusion he wouldn't be able to handle this alone so he ran back for help of the other guards.

"Me-Cra—" Fuck that, he wouldn't make a fool out of himself by shouting that stupid nickname with all the other inmates in hearrange. He pushed a taller boy to the side so he could get closer to the fight and shouted again. "Dave! What the fuck?!"

Heads turned his way, some faces contoured up in mock. Apparently Ginger wasn't lying when he said word was getting around that Brendan had gotten banged, because they all started murmuring like some immature high school girls about it. 

"Hey, that's the guy Pimple fucked."

"Yeah, look at him, he's a full blown bottom."

"Nah, man. Pimple fights hard but fucks soft. Pimple is the bottom."

He ignored them all, there was higher things at stakes after all. Like, Dave getting himself into more trouble than he already was in. Brendan broke through the crowd which cleared just for him and then ran straight up to Dave, pulling him by the arm away from the boy he was mercilessly battering at with both fists. 

But Dave was way above Brendan's power and easily shrugged him off like some fly being swatted by a horse's tail, and pushed him. Brendan lost his balance and spilled his body all over the floor like some helpless loser, which got a rise out of the crowd. This embarrassment was what finally set the fire in him off.

"You fucking pimple head!" Brendan shouted despite what his previous morals were towards Me-Crazy being called this offensive slur. "Go ahead and fuck yourself up then! I don't give a shit."

Dave turned his face his direction and for a moment it looked like he was coming back for him to get a few punches in, but then he shook his head and decided to ignore him. 

The fight didn't last much longer anyway. What Brendan tried—breaking off this stupid fight—was a task quickly taken on by three guards that told everyone to step away as they came for Me-Crazy. He started for the stairs but ran right into a guards arms and another came up behind him, collecting his wrists with handcuffs that snapped closed around them. 

Presently, they were taking Me-Crazy—Dave away from the cafeteria, and they weren't heading for the cells either. 

Fuck.


	8. Juvie Crew

For some reason now that Dave was gone Brendan felt unsafe in his own cell for the first time. Like actually unsafe. It wasn't like Dave necessarily protected him come danger. But Brendan was sure Dave would rather do the job of beating Brendan up himself than give someone else the pleasure to do the same thing, so with this fact Brendan could rest easy Dave would always jump to his rescue.

That's how Brendan explained his own action defending Dave being called slurs anyway, so he thought the same principle could be applied to Dave.

And wow, he'd been starting to call him Dave opposed to Me-Crazy. Maybe change was on its way.

Brendan figured a good activity to pass time would be going through Dave's stuff to see if he was hiding something, perhaps even something of value, so he opened the bed covers, groped around, looked under his bed, his night clothes, but found nothing. This punk was even poor in prison.

Let down of his disappointing search he flopped onto Dave's bed. Then his eyes caught sight of Dave's night shirt, and the way it was already looking so worn after only one week of usage brought weird butterflies to his stomach. 

Reluctantly he retrieved the shirt, looking around the room like he was suddenly self conscious of being watched, then as he was sure nobody was there he buried his face into the shirt, taking in a giant breather. It smelt slightly sweaty, and had such a humongous hint of Dave's scent which was just so attractive to Brendan's senses. Fuck. 

He fell backwards into the mattress as he dwelled longer in the welcoming scent and felt his body warming up, his cheeks flushing. He didn't have to glance down to know he was getting hard. 

If Dave was being transferred to another juvie, or fuck knows what, then it'd only be torture to hold back from jerking off. And even if he was coming back Brendan couldn't contain himself that long, he slipped a hand down his pants, moaning obscurely as his cold hand came in contract with the hot burning-up thing. 

Brendan didn't know what it was; the isolation of being in prison, or the fact that he was among so many dudes, but it was like his sex drive had increased drastically the last couple of days. He had just stroked his dick a few times when the felt himself awfully close to orgasm already. 

He bit his bottom lip deliciously, stroking his assumed last stroke more slowly and then, instead of the blinding lights of the bliss his eyes snapped open and he saw someone standing in the doorway. 

He reached for the pillow closest to him—forgetting that he was lying in Dave's bed and this was the pillow Dave would be sleeping on if he eventually came back—and pressed it against his twitching erection. Brendan sat up, delivering his best fake-smile. 

The guy kept staring with his eyes wide as saucers. He was just some lanky dude, lankier and taller than Aaron even, and his brown hair was cut into an awkward bowl cut. For a moment Brendan guessed quietly what crime he was sitting out here; shooting up some middle school? Killing his dog for eating his homework? Probably...

Then Brendan sighed harshly. "Whatcha looking at? Think the longer you stare the higher your chances rise of getting a blowjob out of me?" He paused, then raised his voice so abruptly the guy flinched out of his frozen-like state. "DUDE, JUST GO!"

But that was the only reaction he got out of him, because he resumed staring at Brendan like the dumb punk he was. And something about this situation was so forbiddingly and disturbingly sexy that Brendan's dick began pulsating, and before he knew it he squeezed his load against the pillowcase. Brendan uttered a strained groan that sounded like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.

When he looked back at the doorway the guy was gone. 

That was just right.

 

. . . 

 

Brendan spent nearly two hours of his day scrubbing out the spunk from the pillow, that shit was surely sticky and resistent. He had to admit. 

Brendan was getting pretty lonesome in here. Shit, he seriously needed to get some friends, not only because he already said that he was a loner but also because it's kinda unhealthy to spent your time solemnly with Dave the Nut. 

Having that in mind he strayed out into the hallway. Inmates were leaning with their backs against the walls, their feet propped up next to their knees. Everyone wore the same shoes—Chunky white ones—so as facial expressions—stones. Grey motherfucker stones.

Nobody in particular seemed very clubby, they stared dumbly at him as he passed by but when Brendan nodded at the ones he didn't find too ugly he was met with cold eyes, grey stoney eyes, creased foreheads because the owner used them as a landing space for their bigger-than-life eyebrows.

Yeah this was definitely a shit zone.

But then, out of nowhere a familiar voice called him. 

"Aye, Blackie! Black kid!"

Brendan turned around and couldn't help the slight smirk popping up on his face. "Yo!" He greeted him back, a little too enthusiastic but who gave a shit—Those punks around him didn't deserve the bother. 

Once he strutted over his hand was slapped by two guys—Ginger and BBC, the acquaintance—and even a third one which of course had to be the guy he'd previously seen in the doorway. He still didn't seem much of a talker but at least his face wasn't swept clear of emotions, now he showed a trace of humour mixed with shame. 

"Aaron here told us you've had some fun times at the Sixth?"

It took Brendan a second to get what he was referring at with 'the Sixth', but then it clicked that he was talking about his cell, and more prominently, the jacking off that happened behind unclosed doors. He snorted out a laughter and shrugged dismissively.

"Sure. Plenty of fun." He nodded at the lanky kid, incidentally raising a brow. "You called Aaron? What's the last name say?" He knew it was not gonna be Soto but the coincidence of that matter surely seemed funny to him. He was probably gay too, like some loyal kind of tradition to call the son you suspect to be gay Aaron in particular. 

"Sotoson." Aaron replied then immediately went on gnawing at his bottom lip in embarrassment as Brendan shot out a harsh laughter. Holy shit, someone must be fucking with him.

"No freakin' way!"

"Yes way!" Ginger chirped in from the side. He edged towards his friend and put an arm around Aaron Sotoson, which then hung there like a limp dick around a girl's manicured finger. "This fella's indeed named Aaron Sotoson. Ask his Mom. Ask his doctor who signed his birth certificate once he made sure ain't nobody try for a third time sneaking the name Adolf Hitler on it."

With the way his voice was starting to rise with every following word, so that everyone in hear-range could eavesdrop on this funny story, Brendan raised the tone of his laughter along with it. 

He was almost forgetting that this was the exact same guy threatening to rape him just this morning. But the humour he had in his Ginger boy bod was really something else, Brendan just had to laugh. There was no going around it when a comedian strikes up the boring parts of prison to replace it with his wit.

Once the joke faded out and Brendan was merely chuckling he punched Ginger's shoulder and asked. "What's your name anyway? Never got a letter of that. Been calling you Ginger in my head from the beginning on."

"Ginger? Seriously? Oh, that's so cliche." Ginger waved him off like Brendan was the biggest disappointment among all those inmates potentially sitting out worse and more serious crimes than him. Hell, he didn't even know which crimes this trio was here for.

"Oh yeah? And calling a black kid Blackie ain't?"

"Ah-uh, not on my watch. They usually call them Negro, Niggah, whatever you prefer."

"Get out of here, man." Brendan feigned being offended and perhaps he was even being for real, because he surely hated being called any of those N-words, but Ginger cleared that up quickly, just as fast as he could pull a joke out of something and said more seriously,

"Jokes aside, my name's Frank and I'm frankly sorry in case I've wounded your sensitive skin."

"Don't seem to wound him much more than his psycho boyfriend must do him on the daily." BBC threw in from the side. Brendan had almost forgotten about Ginger Frank's friends because he was so involved in the argument, and now it felt weird to acknowledge them. 

"Nah, he doesn't hurt me as much as he does others. I'm lucky he likes me." Brendan said. 

"Likes you a little too much." Frank wiggled his eyebrows around and Brendan nearly punched him for real this time, bur kept himself contained by rolling his eyes.

"Oh, fuck off, man. We didn't actually have sex, it was just—" Brendan's hands gestured around before his chest as he searched for the right word, the right excuse, like how do you possibly explain moans coming from a room with   
only two guys in it?

Then the right thing hit him with such a smart force he almost made the spastic move of flapping his arms in triumph. "We just had a circle jerk! You know, nothing about it. Made a bet on who could shoot their load farther."

"Are we supposed to believe that...?" Toby asked Frank with a constipated look on his face. This guy was full of shit, definitely. 

Frank ignored him. "Anyway, Blackie. You're a pretty chill guy, spread our weed around and even returned the money afterwards unlike the other guys we tasked with the same thing in the past." He smiled cordially. "So, to get to know you better wanna tell us what's your crime?"

Brendan contemplated wether he should lie about his and just tell them he was caught selling weed at the corners, but that seemed unnecessary so he just came with the truth. "You know, beat someone up..." Brendan felt a frown spreading on his face so he spat somewhere before they could witness it.

"Yeah? Who?"

"Uh, a friend. Aaron Soto."

"Oh! That's why you were laughing at our Aaron Sotoson before?"

Brendan snorted lightly. "Pretty much. Whatcha gonna do." There was a moment of silence where all of the guys just smiled politely, not really awkward but edging on it, then Brendan asked them what they've done.

Frank sighed heavily, smiling sadly at the fluorescent lights ahead of them. "I'm in for a false rape claim. Ex girlfriend really wanted to get the last word in, and all." He paused before he explained the crimes of his buddies. "Toby's punched a cop in the face after they shot his brother, and Aaron is a piece of shit who stabbed one of his classmates!"

The heavy mood was immediately crushed as Frank crooned with an ugly laughter, pounding jokingly into Aaron with both fists who seemed severely uncomfortable with this all and blushed. 

"Yeah, you're piece of shit, Aaron! Rightly so!" Toby joined in on the laughter and began pushing Aaron and then the two boys were using Aaron as a handball which they tossed around between them so he wobbled helplessly on his long pelican legs.

Brendan stood by, smiling lightly at being entertained a little. It surely helped to distract him from a lot of other things that had been running marathons in his mind, but now that he was only watching and not really in the argument anymore he started thinking again. Damn the racetracks in his mind which seemed so welcoming to all unwelcoming thoughts, seriously damn them to hell.


	9. NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will probably edit this chapter lol

The thinking didn't stop throughout the day, and once in bed it only worsened. Frank and his boys didn't talk much to Brendan after the open hearted introduction they delivered, which Brendan thought was kind of an ass move of them, he really hated when people just randomly started ignoring him and instead gave another one the time of his life. 

And that's pretty much close to the thing making rounds in his mind; how Aaron Soto just from one day to another started hanging around with that Thomas kid and less with his original crew. 

It wasn't just that either, Brendan had trouble keeping his confidence up when there's a new opponent in his field of competition and Thomas surely made a hard match to him. Thomas was black, like him. But Thomas also had more muscles, a six pack, like Brendan had not. How could he not hate him for stealing his best friend away from him? 

This was something that seemed pretty plausible to Brendan but Aaron seemed to have trouble understanding. Pretty much like Brendan had trouble understanding why Aaron was being gay but slowly he was actually starting to understand. Or so he thought. 

As Brendan laid in his bed, head without a pillow because he tossed his one over to Dave's bed and didn't really use it much anyway as he liked lying on his stomach, he snuggled into Dave's shirt which he had scrunched up into a ball and kept close to his face. It provided him with some comfort, especially with all those noises of inmates babbling in the distance. 

He sighed. It was getting really lonely there with the lack of a cellmate on the other side who dedicated ten full minutes every night talking himself to sleep by hitting up conversations with the cement walls. Those conversations brought the same effect over upon Brendan and always made him tired himself, sleepy. But now he was almost hyper awake with no hopes of falling asleep any time soon.

But he wasn't alone for much longer, footsteps coming from behind the door and then entering through it declared the end of his solitude. 

Brendan clutched the shirt tighter to himself, readying himself to throw it over the invaders face and hold it taunt there until he was smothered for his own dumb mistake of attempting to rape Brendan. ( Which was safe to assume anyone would break in here for, given his sexy bod. )

The footsteps stopped right beside his bed, and for a moment it was quiet before another noise came up; the sound of denim sliding down from skin, the dull fall of pants landing in a pool around the ankles, pants being kicked off into a corner shortly followed by the sound of shoes flinging after them.

The bed creaked and yet Brendan wasn't jumping up to smother the on-comer because he knew exactly who this was just by the way this person breathed and let out sighs from time to time.

"Dave? You're back? So soon?" Brendan asked softly, scratching an mild itch on his nose away by rubbing it against the shirt. 

"Yup. Gained one more month to my sentence." Dave said, laughing.

"Well, shit."

Dave laughed again and then his breath was blowing against Brendan's neck, his lips pressing against it in the next moment. 

Brendan moaned lightly, his shoulder responding to the touch by rolling back in a semi-circle. Dave noticed and brought a kiss on the soft pad of his shoulder. It made Brendan feel all tingly and warm. 

"Why did you beat them up anyway? That was really stupid, even for you."

"Less talking..." Dave said in a low growl near by his ear. The simple presence of him so close, so naked, by Brendan, was warming him up a few degrees but he didn't just want to dive right in without getting an explanation first. He wanted to know things and ponder about them before he was going to forget everything temporarily in the next few minutes when Dave fucked his brains out—Given he was any good in bed.

"Sorry, but if you want me to moan more instead, you're doing a pretty shit job in getting me hot." Barely had the words left Brendan's mouth when he was forcefully grabbed by his shoulder and yanked onto his back. In the next moment Dave pinned him down with his crotch against Brendan's, smirking down at him.

Brendan began breathing through his mouth with long exhales and deep inhales. "You'll tell me after...?"

"Sure."

Only then did Brendan reciprocate the smirk, and even placed a hand across Dave's lower stomach, just above a vein that was especially visible and probably born from the adrenaline of his fights. He trailed his hand farther down just to his pubes when he suddenly remembered something. 

"He isn't sure yet, huh?" Brendan rasped, referring to what Dave said that day in the office room when Brendan asked if he'd found himself a twink yet. Turns out he did find someone, but Brendan thought he was a little better than the slur he was being associated with. 

"He wasn't. Now is." Dave said. "Anyway. Ready to take a shit on each other?" He dipped both of his crooked pinky fingers under Brendan's detention briefs—very simple grey ones which hugged his groan so rather tightly that he assumed whoever assigned these to him was tryna rile him all up.

But jokes on them, because Brendan liked the feel of being all restricted down there, like some kind of kink—and the way Dave pulled them down with a multitude of brisk tugs was turning him on in a comical way where he could laugh just as he could moan about it, but this didn't make Brendan forget the remark so easily. He acknowledged it with a simple, "Way to kill the mood..."

Dave laughed grossly, towing the briefs all the way down and tangled Brendan's feet from them. Feeling all free down there now Brendan moved his legs around a little then angled them on the mattress just when Dave drove his palms up his inner legs, kissing the dried wound on Brendan's knee unexpectedly. 

Fucking softy. 

Brendan almost snorted at Dave's gentleness but cut himself off with a faked moan which Dave must've interpreted as a legit one because in no time where his lips on Brendan's neck, molesting him with a mix of hard kisses and careful bites.

Brendan gasped every time he felt Dave's teeth grating down his skin, then moaned when he halted for a kiss. The foreplay already felt so good to Brendan that he nearly forgot they were planning to going out way farther than that, than last time when they were just doing some heavy petting. 

They were almost in the same position as then; Dave pressing his body against Brendan, dicks next to each other on his belly, and their lips talking only in feverish kisses, when Dave leaned back and asked breathily, "How'd you like it if we cut that sensual shit and...go down to business—in you?"

Brendan raised his eyebrows, grinning mockingly. "Explain how that's any less sensual?"

Dave looked like he wanted to rub that stupid grin from his face, and best if he could do that with his dick. He ground his crotch against Brendan's firmly and said, "Cuz it'll be pretty painful for you."

"It will?"

"Fuck, I don't know! Never been fucked in the ass." After a short pause he added. "You don't gotta do this if that spooks you."

Brendan dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and let it stick against the corner of his mouth while he momentarily contemplated about wether to bitch out or not. 

He didn't know how he should feel about this new information, after all he'd already tested if he liked pain by scratching his skin open with the plastic object, and it turned out that he was definitely not a masochist. But he didn't know how much this translated to Dave putting pain into him, he was certainly not getting any less harder by the mere thought of it. 

Dave waited rather patiently for his answer, kneeling between his legs and toying around with Brendan's knees, his eyes were admiring his body then dazzled Brendan with a sudden eye contact. 

That Dave wasn't just going in to fuck him right there without getting Brendan's approval first, like he kinda expected was something he'd, gave Brendan the slightest tingles in his stomach—consent was a turn-on too.

His lips curved back into a mischievous smile, he's come to a decision. Which was wordlessly shared as Brendan sat way the hell up, like he was coming up from a push-up, and seized Dave by locking his hands on his nape, and dragged him way the hell down with a searing kiss.

His senses were suddenly totally overwhelmed with Dave, he breathed his scent stronger than he did when he breathed in his shirt, he tasted his tongue which didn't taste of anything but then again so much, and felt his skin under his fingertips. 

But everything changed for the worse once Dave parted his cheeks with his cock and pressed the head firmly against his entrance. Brendan bit back a whimper, and groaned sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of discomfort spread out from down-up. 

"Goddamn....it." 

Dave looked up to his face and put on a sympathetic smile, but it was clear as day that he was holding back mock. This son of a bitch. "You alright?" He asked. 

"No, what's it look like you piss-poor excuse of a joke."

"What?" Dave shifted his arms closer to Brendan's waist, not seeming to bother about what he'd just said.

"It's.... weird."

"Hmm, okay. Maybe it'll get better." Dave lowered his face and placed his lips gently onto Brendan's. This did make it a little better, but not down below.

It felt like it wasn't supposed to be in there. He squirmed underneath him when Dave dipped his slick cock back in, pressing farther inside him, so much that kissing him was starting to feel complicated with the new distraction trying to delve into his entrance. His own lips just couldn't keep up with the eager ones of Dave.

Fucking hell.

Brendan didn't understand it, still not, was being gay just some kind of kink? On one side it made him feel good but then on the other so damn uncomfortable. 

His thoughts totally unplugged from his brain when out of nowhere Dave rubbed against his prostate, causing Brendan to flinch violently. It was such a sudden bliss that he didn't see it coming. Fuck he probably didn't even know he had a prostate until Dave.

Dave held him a little tighter and rubbed against it again, watching Brendan's face intently for a reaction, then smirked when he saw his face contouring in a pained kind of pleasure, and gave him a firm peck for it.

"That your cherry...?" He taunted, knocking against the spot where he'd felt the prostate again to show what he referred to.

Brendan moaned, arching his back towards the feeling. "What the hell are you talking about?" He said, but his tone was slurred. 

"This," 

Dave pressed his lips together in concentration as he rocked his hips against Brendan's and buried himself all the way to the hilt. 

Motherfucker. That was totally not necessary, but it felt so awfully good Brendan moaned to the ache and the sensation of being all filled up. 

"You liked that, didn't ya?" 

"Totally. Awesome." Brendan meant for this to sound sarcastic but the weakness in his voice made him sound super aroused. Whatever, that's kinda what he was by now. He clamped his thighs around Dave's moving body and titled his face to the side, exposing his neck openly.

And Dave went right in to press his warm lips against it, wetting it by parting them and flicking the tip of his tongue across the skin. 

When Dave built up a more even and quicker pace Brendan remembered he'd his own dick and embraced his fingers around the bose, immediately feeling some some tension from the neglect lifting as he began stroking himself. 

It felt a little like cheating how Dave put in all the work and all Brendan had to do was lie flat on his back for him to let this punk bitch in through his ass. But there wasn't much time to do anything about his passiveness because the fuck didn't last much longer. 

They blasted into the point of no return, jaws locked together, Dave pounding into him with reckless abandonment and groaned once they fell from the crest of the orgasm into mattress, panting. 

Brendan had his eyes closed for the next full minute but instead of the usual black it was all an explosive white. His body was shaking slightly and he was hyper aware of anything that his body touched, the hard mattress under his spine, the blanket by his feet, one of Dave's legs leaning against him and even the cool air bristling against the heat radiating from his body.

His eyes fluttered open then decided it felt better to keep them closed and stayed closed. He did notice the condom wrapped around Dave's dick though in the short moment they were opened so he asked him about it.

"Didn't wanna hear you bitching about me not using one in case it bothered you." Came Dave's demented answer. He was still breathing the lust out and the sanity in. Man, what they did was truly insane.

Brendan snorted faintly at this. That was so very thoughtful of him. Indeed, this was kind of a turn-on as well, thoughtfulness, but he seriously needed to stop listing up his turn-ons and instead maybe think about what offed him; like staying together after sex for starters. God, he felt himself growing uncomfortable by the second, but didn't mention it.

After his pants had calmed and he was merely breathing heavily, Dave said, "So you use my name now?"

Brendan was kinda thrown off with the question, so he decided to throw him off with something as well. "Uh-huh, and you're continuing beating people up?"

"Why stop?"

Well, that was kind of like a slap in the face. Brendan scoffed. "Because.... maybe you felt guilty after taking it too far on one of your friends?"

"Was your idea. Dunno whatchu want from me."

"I told you to do it, yeah, but I also told you to stop but then you did not. It totally escalated." 

"You should've known." Dave stated. 

Brendan sighed in frustration, there was no winning this was there? But who was he kidding, this was Me-Crazy, a guy who clipped the wings of injured birds, someone ready to knock all your teeth in if you dare say something wrong. 

But then, he heard the rustling of the blanket and in the next moment Dave's voice murmured into his ear as he slung an arm around Brendan. "Give me a safe word for next time, I'll surely stop then. Sure thing."

Brendan's eyes widened. "For when you beat someone up?"

"For whenever." He could hear the humour in his voice and almost chuckled himself. This perverted little shit seriously thought they were gonna repeat today's activity, but maybe he wasn't too far from the truth as Brendan thought about it as well. That'd be a pretty hot fling to have.

"All right, sure. Safe word's Me-Crazy."

"But that's my name."

"That was your name. And I'm not gonna say that name again in context of being your name. Because it's a fucking stupid name."

"Wow,"

Brendan felt something squeezing the skin of his belly and noticed too late that Dave was pinching him as the pain grew into something knife-sharp within seconds. This seemed like the perfect moment to test out their agreement so Brendan hissed, "Me-Crazy!" and the pain immediately lifted. 

Now that this was done with he snuggled into the blanket and felt sleep dawning into him all at once. Never in his life had he guessed he'd ever fall asleep next to this punk, Dave, Me-Crazy, whatever, but there he was with his arms searching for the right spot on his body before they finally came down around Brendan's waist and stayed there. 

 

 

 

A/N: I didn't feel that chapter at all, felt like the worst I've written yet XD But whatever the show must go on!  
Also I might've gone out of character with Me-Crazy but this is just how I feel like he'd be; an insensitive bitch who is kinda passive about everything and has random spurts of anger from time to time, but will act somewhat caring to the ones he likes. I knew someone like Me-Crazy and I swear he might've been a total psycho but was such a sulky little bitch when it came to love so I found that was kinda funny.   
I think it had to do with them feeling defensive about their feelings and literally anything else so they act out but when they can trust someone they are ready to show it. And errrrrrrr anyway, back to the story.


	10. Mental Breakdowns

Right in the middle of the goddamn night unease was what woke Brendan up. He groaned softly as his head perched up and looked around in sheer confusion. It was like something had fucked with his mind and robbed him of all his smarts for a moment, then it slowly dawned on him, when he noticed that he was sleeping without a pillow, that he'd lost his ass virginity probably not even three hours ago and Dave was snoring it off beside him. 

Brendan threw the blanket back jumped in one spastic motion onto his feet and folded his arms tightly before his chest. Holy shit, how did this happen without any alcohol?

He really couldn't piece this together, this must've been the most complicated puzzle of the century and yet Brendan could only explain it with the feeling that resided in his belly as he held a gaze on sleeping Dave and felt warmth overcome him. 

But it was weird nonetheless.

He nudged the blanket back down so Dave's back wasn't exposed, then crept out of the cell on silent feet. But not even five feet in the hallway the haziness of sleep completely wore off from him and he had to stop walking to lean against the nearest wall. An ache so poignant agonised him far up his spine.

"Shit." He hissed, scrunching up his face as his elbow struggled staying pressed against the wall opposite to giving away from his weight and letting him drop down on the cement floor—Which wouldn't only be a pain to his body but also a metaphorical pain in the ass should he wake half the juvie up, including Dave whom he'd rather avoid for now. 

Once he collected himself enough he continued the retarded stagger towards the bathroom, feeling more and more excited to see the toilets he usually dreaded to see because they were full of shit, literally. Everything was full of shit—and god, especially now. He just wanted to see this whole place burn down and had no idea where those sudden negative thoughts came from.

Hell, he felt like this had been his mindset all the time without interruption—Did he ever feel good? Seriously, was there ever a day in his life where his smiles weren't a foundation of phoney? He had no idea!

He kicked the bathroom door open, a little too loud but he only regretted it once it slammed shut behind him. Well damn. Someone's definitely gonna run in on him having a mental breakdown. 

But he couldn't care less and happily resumed having a mental breakdown right after he took a wholesome piss in one of the johns. 

Though the thing was, the john he was pissing into was at the far end where a little window ran from the left and he could see his thigh perfectly well in it. He tried not to look at it which worked just fine for some time but then he got bored and careless watching the piss stream down the drain that his eyes fell back towards the mirror, his thigh showing in it, and at last he was glued to the pink scar disturbing the image of smooth brown skin. 

Was that how...?

Oh hell nah.

He felt them hot and moist by his lashes, then his eyes burned from the salt, and before he knew it he was full-on crying again, like the little bitch self of himself he'd promised to leave in the past. 

That's right, Brendan fucking Smart was crying in the juvenile prison toilet and all because he was suddenly overwhelmed and confused of the fact that he slept with his friend.

But luckily enough Brendan somehow expected something like this would happen so he lugged his pants back on, and got into the disabled shower, that was isolated from the public shower by a mildewy curtain, and blazed a joint there. 

As half of the joint disappeared in his hands, burning to threads of silver smoke up the sharp-lighted room, the sound of the door opening and closing made him drag his sleeeve aggressively over his eyes and fall into his cool laid-back self. 

Ain't nobody witness his fag-liquid and put his reputation down!

But it turned out that it was only Dave, who entered and then resuming to search for Brendan until he found him after pulling the curtains back. And since this was the guy responsible for the pain in his ass ( literally ) he didn't give a shit and allowed a few more tears to spill. 

Dave must not have been around a lot back in the block because after this one lay he seemed overtly attractive. His skin was glowing which took away the attention from his acne, and his eyes were half-lidded, still dwelling in the lethargy. 

He sneered quietly to himself, but said nothing as he sat next to Brendan in the shower, nice enough to draw the curtain back closed after himself.

"Can't find no sleep?" He asked casually, and Brendan thanked him for that. He didn't have the right insults prepared at reckless exposal for now. Just the standard ones that'd have to do.

"Whats it look like, faggot."

Dave tensed up next to him but then he was laughing again. A little smile was forming on Brendan's own face as well, which wasn't surprising given how stupid and ridiculous this whole situation was. Sleeping with his friend? Not even Aaron who was gay and everyone would expect him to sleep with? Totally ridiculous. And he could never let him repeat that. Holy fuck.

But then as Dave put his fingers over Brendan's to take the joint, Brendan surprised himself as he jerked his head so fast towards Dave and connected their lips that he joint dropped to the ground between them. Dave was quick to climb onto Brendan, furthering the kiss with a combination of rough and gentle movements. 

Brendan moaned into him, feeling cold fingers slide up his sides which made him shudder, but it distracted him of the sore down there so it worked.

Dave's lips were chapped and rough against his own softer ones, but Brendan was so into them that he willingly let the dead skin scratch micro wounds into his.

Like the idiot he was Dave couldn't help himself but start to smirk every time Brendan let out a muffled moan, throwing him out of his rhythm. Brendan thought Dave could use some help so he slipped his tongue into Dave's mouth, dazzling him by switching his pace between fast and slow. 

Dave might be good at handling the pressure but Brendan surely mastered the speed.

As Dave hand made its way to Brendan's pants, Brendan flinched from the previous memory of his soreness but then his memories clumped into a confusing mess of nonesense and he forgot about it altogether, or just didn't care. 

He arched his back towards the palm that was holding his dick, letting another moan escape which wasn't muffled anymore but hot and clear. He felt a wet something on his neck, hot breath sizzling him and spurring on his heart to beat louder. 

Dave shimmied Brendan's pants over his knees, down to his ankles where Brendan took over by kicking them far away, out of the shower, where he could pick it up later and regret having done all this a second time.

But now he was so in the moment he didn't give two shits about the future, the hot mess of Dave pressing down against him was all his mind could form a thought about, and those thoughts were dirty beyond relief.

"Condom...?" Came a husky voice near his ear, sending tingles down his shoulder and arms. 

"Fuck those," Brendan muttered breathily. 

"Good." Me-Crazy said, the smirk in his voice prominent. "I'm gonna rock your ass so hard this second time," He added in a lustier tone, following it up with an appetising flick of his tongue across Brendan's sensual skin. 

He moaned, flowing onto his back where he was greeted with the shock of the cold ground, and Me-Crazy followed him there, incidentally picking up the joint and flicking it towards the drain. 

Once they fall into the all familiar missionary position they shed out of their white night shirts, kissing hotly while Brendan's fingers began working Dave's drawstring open—This jerk for some reason always secured them with a tight knot, as if he was scared someone would come steal them in his sleep. Ridiculous!

"Allow me," Dave interrupted the kiss, seemingly getting impatient with Brendan's useless hands as he undid the knot himself with one simple tug. Brendan pouted, looking awed. 

"You're makin' me look stupid."

"What, you mean you aren't?" 

"Given that I'm lying under you right now, means I must be." Brendan countered cheekily. 

"Dumb little Brendan." Dave quipped, then surprised him with a rare smile which didn't mean mock but admiration. And as his eyes traveled from Brendan's face down his bare torso the smile faded. "Damn you look fuckable like that underneath me," 

Did he just hear that right? Dave openly addressing him like this? Brendan had trouble holding back a snort but his struggle was quickly taken from him as Dave leaned back down to intertwine their lips into a passionate kiss, his hands wandering all over his body which left tingles after them like the dust from shooting stars.

Brendan felt like he was gonna go up in flames any second, all the heat was contained inside of him and threatened to burst any second. He grabbed one of Dave's hands, mercilessly pulled it from their tour, and brought it down around little Brendan who deserved all the care there was for it.

God was that delicious. 

And thankfully Dave wasn't being a stubborn bitch for once as he gladly dragged his cupped hand up and down Brendan's dick, nearly covering every inch with their bigness. Brendan wasn't small himself, he had actually had a decent inch over Dave's, but those hands were definitely made for this. 

While Brendan was busy dwelling in his own pleasure Dave leaned over him to reach his pants, fished briefly in the pockets without interrupting the handjob, until he found a small packet of body cream and tore it open. He coated his engorged cock with the white mass, seemingly struggling to decide where to keep his gaze as it flew from Brendan's face to his dick or simply to his stomach and how it heaved and lifted with his deep breaths. 

When the pleasure abruptly came to a stop for Brendan he perched his head up, confusedly, and almost jumped from his rockers when he was greeted with the sight of Dave rolling his eyes back into a white oblivion. 

Brendan slapped at his chest then plummet back onto the cold tiles, crossing his arms before his chest in disapproval. "It was good—Until now!"

Dave's face inched towards him with a sneer, rasping in his best low growl. "Whatever, meant to do it great, anyway. Not good."

Brendan rolled his eyes dramatically but couldn't help the smile that was shaking up his pissed-off look. "Yeah, sure. Like your game's even that good."

"Want proof?"

Brendan stared at Dave with a hard look in his brown eyes, but he could only keep this cascade up for a few seconds before the eye contact started turning him on. His insides were melting at the mere sight of Dave and that he was naked between his spread legs wasn't of any help either. So he grabbed Dave's shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss, rutting their hips together in a tormented fashion. 

 

. . . 

 

There was nothing about a shower in the middle of the night. But they didn't quite get to enjoy it because the Juvie thought it was a good idea to keep the water icy cold during the late hours so it was a falling Alaska for a couple minutes before they shivered themselves dry in the towels and got back into their pyjamas. 

Back in the hallway Dave took on the responsibility to piss off Brendan—to bring the fire back after the freeze, in his words—and he did that by deliberately touching Brendan's hand as they walked. When Brendan hissed at him to stop Dave only took it farther by sliding his fingers between Brendan's.

"Alright, that does it." Brendan shook him off, then shoved his shoulder against Dave's, barely moving him out of balance. 

Dave cackled wildly, a sound that spread like a rocket-launch in the eerily quiet hallway. No doubt did he wake up at least half of the inmates. "You'll fuck me. But won't hold my hand...?"

"Hell nah."

"Shut up there, you two homos. Ya disrupting me sleep." Came a third voice from afar. 

Brendan's heart nearly stopped. He shot Dave a panicky glare but he only responded with the help of the stupid half of his brain because he dove in for a kiss like some maniac messing with faith. Brendan gave him a funny look, leaning right the fuck out of his reach and ran the rest of the way into their cell. Dave's loud-ass footsteps took up the chase after him. 

Brendan didn't know it was possible to hand rape someone but that's kinda exactly what happened once they broke in through the gate of their cell.

He made a dive bomb into his bed, nearly breaking his neck and then Dave was already straddling him. They quarrelled over the blanket which Dave easily ripped out of his possession before his hands came groping under Brendan's back where he kept his hands hidden.

"Dude! Just give me your hand!" Dave cried, trying to dig under Brendan's but was denied access. 

"Go To Hell, Psycho!" Brendan whisper-shouted back. Dave was so close that Brendan could spit on him and make it all more amusing to him, but that'd most likely end in him getting murdered right on the cool sheets, so he did not. 

"Fucking sex addict, I swear."

"So? Makes you the faggot." He felt Dave pinching the little belly fat he had between his fingers, but didn't give into this trick by swatting him away. He used his knee instead to kick him as good as was possible. 

Dave stopped, holding his leg still. "Remember: I'm the one banging your ass."

"Yeah, that's pretty ga—ah" Brendan lost himself as Dave put his hand right across his clad groan area, squeezing deliciously. But the feeling only lasted for a pathetic millisecond before Brendan realised what he'd just done. 

This motherfucker tricked him!

Dave cheered, holding their interwoven hands into the air, then collapsed right aside him, still holding his hand.  
"Now that you let me nail you," He asked out of the blue. "Do I get the N word pass?"

Brendan raised his eyebrows at him before he stared back at the ceiling. He should just be glad for now that he's allowing this gay-ass hand holding. "I don't know, do I get the H word pass?"

"What is the H word?"

"Homeless."

Dave's fist came down with such unexpected force on his rib cage that Brendan groaned. He'd assumed those would be rare from now because they had something but apparently the word was still a huge trigger. 

Brendan decided hissing "Asshole," and wrestling him on the mattress was a good plan of action so that's what he did until they separated out of exhaustion and got into their beds for sleep.


	11. Never forgive, Never forget

Brendan dragged his pillow after himself while he rubbed the sleep from his puffy eyes. It was pretty early in the morning and the scent of coffee was all over the place. 

He flopped unceremoniously onto Dave's bed, smiling innocently as he put the pillow on his lap and patted it like a little kid toying with a stuffed animal. It was kinda funny the way he slept, people tend to say when an evil person sleeps they suddenly look all calm and peaceful but that was definitely not the case with Dave. He lied on his back, arms crossed, frowning a little like he was mad pissed at you but pretended he wasn't. 

Brendan almost gave himself away by bursting up laughing but managed not to. Instead he seized his pillow harshly by both ends and peppered it against sleeping Dave's head, bringing him to consciousness with the help of feathers inside linen.

That was for the punch last night; Never forgive, Never forget.

Dave groaned, blindly slapping his arms around for the cause but Brendan was already on his feet laughing the hysterics out loud which he'd just held back in his throat. That almost felt like an orgasm.

"Stop that, asslicker." He kicked his feet out at Brendan which was like giving a psychopath ideas because Brendan immediately came up with the decision to snag it and drag him forcedly out of the bed, into the unforgiving prison ground. Just like he did that one time.

To make it all a little more similar he put himself astride Dave's waist and fumbled around his own drawstring even tho it was already open. "My piss and your face, how about?"

"Do it." Dave challenged him. "Let's have a taste of that fag juice."

"You'd want that, huh?" 

Dave cocked a brow at him, then crossed his arms under his head. He looked so self assured that Brendan was not actually gonna do it, and he was right; Brendan couldn't even begin to image what sadistic shit Dave would do to him after the last droplet of his piss had found its way down to his face. Damn it. Damn him. 

Reluctantly Brendan lowered himself down until he sat on Dave's chest and once he did he felt a comfortable wave of tingles overcome him. He leaned forward and rounded the harshties of Dave's unfortunate morning up with a good old making out session. 

 

. . . 

 

The cafeteria was already busy with inmates chatting over their breakfast trays, pushing each other's shoulders when the other shared something stupid, put up a show of chewing like feral animals when a guard passed them, and most of all; let their eyes linger with suspicion on the two boys as they trudged over to the food take out. 

Dave didn't even seem to notice, he walked around like he was alone in a vacuum not giving a shit about his surroundings until the wrong word dropped into his ear where it sparked the same reaction fire had on gasoline. 

But today none of that happened. Today nobody felt like getting their jaws relocated. 

Unfortunately though once they had their food there wasn't any free tables left so they had to crawl up to the one where BBC and his weird Aaron Sotoson sat and join them. Dave was especially muffled about this. 

"We been hearing moans ever since you both settled up here. What's up?" BBC Tobias asked them with a mouth full of shit—and porridge. 

Aaron looked possessively between Brendan and Dave like he expected them to jump up any moment and reveal knife's they didn't have, cut his throat, slice his body up into pieces, fuck. Brendan nodded at him and he averted his eyes in an instant. Creep-O.

"That's odd." Was all he said in reply to Tobias. Dave sniggered darkly. "So, where's your funny one? Ginger something, fucking forgot his name."

"Frank Molly Peterson. He's up in Office B. Hell knows what they've assigned for him." 

Brendan nodded. This made sense. 

"And you're free all day?"

Tobias dragged his beefy hand over his mouth and shook his head sullenly. "Nah, We're doing runs in he gym right after. You can join us if you want to."

"No thanks we–"

Dave's voice cut his sentence off. "Sure." He said, ignoring the venom-filled glare Brendan was hefting on him. "We'll be there."

"What the hell you mean we?" Brendan spat. "I won't. Certainly not."

Tobias glanced between them both, looking like he was hiding a frog in his mouth and let it hopping around his tongue. This motherfucker probably found this amusing. 

Dave shrugged dismissively. "Fine. I'll be there."

"Dude," Brendan's voice pitched when he said this, he felt deeply betrayed by him. There he thought they'd breakfast and then go right back to kissing or whatever, but this fucker seriously wanted to take up some unnecessary work instead, as if spending time with Brendan was worthless. He could hit him right then for this audacity. 

"It's only for an hour, and it ain't really that bad. Beats sitting around in the cell all day, for sure." Tobias ventured in cautiously like Brendan was a bomb about to blow up.

But lucky for him, because Brendan didn't have enough in him to give a shit. "Okay then. You go and have your fun, Dave." He stabbed the juice box's hole with a straw and slurped the strawberry milk up aggressively. This caught Aaron's attention and he looked notched more frightened than he already was, letting his jaw hang low. 

Dave made a little celebration dance right on his seat, then involved himself in a small conversation with Tobias. Brendan couldn't believe this shit, Dave was the one most appraised of talking to those guys when they settled for this table and now he was way above Brendan's excitement level. 

Dave and Tobias finished up way quicker than the others and got up quickly. When they left Dave punched Brendan playfully but this didn't help much to lift his pissed off mood. He forked around the porridge, not feeling at all like putting this crap into his mouth. 

And since Aaron Sotoson was still staring at him in this unblinking creepy way Brendan decided it'd be hilarious to bother him a little. A personal question seemed just right to throw him off completely.

"What the kid do to you that you stabbed?" Brendan asked with an ugly grin shinning on his full lips. He didn't expect an answer from school shooter boy but there he got one.

"It's better to ask what he did to me..." He mumbled, staring at Brendan like he was holding him on gunpoint. 

"Oh, all right. So what did he do?"

"He almost unwinded me. Ten years of friendship and he does that to me."

Brendan put his fork down. "So he was your friend?! Bruh..."

"Was... yeah...."

Holy hella shit the way he said that made Brendan's skin crawl. "Well okay. And you think stabbing him was the right move?"

"Yes.... and he's not moving anywhere anymore."

"Okay..."

"I should be here for life, but Leteo negotiated and now it's only two years."

Brendan squirmed in his seat. This was slowly backfiring and making him uncomfortable instead of Aaron like he'd planned to. "Wow, dude. Congratulations." He said flatly.

"And you know the sickest thing of it all?"

"Huh?" 

He talking about himself now? 

"I can't orgasm anymore, because...." He rotated his jaw around as if he was testing out if it still worked, and after a while Brendan realised he was trying to smile. Trying because it seemed like he had trouble with it. And the smile he managed was odd, dark, deranged—definitely unconventional. "Because," He continued with the crazed smile. "Nothing can ever beat the heights of the orgasm I experienced while watching him bleed out... and the life drain from his eyes. Just. Like. That."

Brendan's eyes cut to his plate where he barely took a bite out of his food and now was sure wouldn't do much to change that. "Uh, you know I-I actually gotta go handle something. How about—" He stood up slowly. "I see you around, yeah?"

Aaron looked up, alarmed at the prospect of being left alone. "You're going? Can I come along? Please?"

"Nah, man. I–"

"Please! I'll take you to my cell and show you—"

Brendan stopped him with the raise of his hand. "No, dude. Don't you get it? You're a creepy ass motherfucker, you fucking watched me jack off with absolutely no intent of leaving, now you're telling me the messed up story of how you mugged your friend, and it's pretty clear you'll wanna murder me there or some shit. Did you get the fucking memo now?" 

Shit, he might be black but he surely wasn't gonna step into the stereotype of getting murdered like they all do in them horror movies. Fuck that shit.

Aaron lowered his glare and blinked terrorisedly at his lunch. He asked more quietly, "Why would you think I'd go against Leteo by doing that...? I couldn't ruin the great job they've done for me. I know I couldn't do that."

"Yeah, and thats so damn noble of you, Aaron Sotoson." Brendan said, starting to leave. "Now, mind fucking off? Yeah, please fuck off."

When he left the crazy scene he could feel Aaron's eyes boring into his back, and Brendan knew this was only the beginning of the shit that was to go down.


	12. Pill Boy

A/N: This chapter got a little too long, it's okay to just skim through it. 

 

Brendan had to admit that after this conversation he was quite shaken. It was one thing having a psycho as a friend and knowing he does messed up shit just for the hell of it, but meeting a stranger that does slightly worse shit and has no good attributes—great sex, humour, a less creepy personality—to make up for it was truly fucked up.

So it was only natural that he sought out his cell and leaned against the sink to smoke the last joint he'd left there. He held the papery butt to his mouth, absentmindedly taking a long drag from it. 

Now that he was alone memories had the chance to come up without interruption, and the ones that did came up were mostly about the stupid shit Skinny-Dave did when high, or how pissed he felt when Baby Freddie waisted yet another gram just cuz he wanted to seem cool around his friends—That punk bitch ain't ever gonna be cool to anyone, let's be real. 

When he started smoking the filter he stretched towards the sink and stubbed the joint cold there, carelessly flushing the stub down the drain with the faucet water. Since he didn't have anything else to do and he started feeling tired he decided a nap would be just fine. So he curled up in his bed, dived his arm under a pillow and jumped as he came in contact with something 

What the hell?

He threw the pillow aside for a better look, brightening up as he clearly saw one of those tiny black dog-poop bags. At first he assumed that it was gonna be another load of weed he was given to deal out, but when the untied the knot and shook the insides of the bag onto the mattress it were a dozen of pills flocking out of it, not the green nugs with their homey rich scent. 

That was weird, was there another dealer around who got wind of how good Brendan did his job? Probably not, they'd attach a note then so he wouldn't carry the money to Frank once done dealing. 

He toyed around with the pills for a while, allowing it to flow from one hand onto the other he held a little farther down, like the sand of an hourglass—they came in a variety of shapes, colours anyway—and the problem was, Brendan had no clicking idea what those got sold for. 

He was a freaking weed dealer not of anything chemical, though he did know you could get a grand fifty bucks for one gram of cocaine, or heroin, or something. And ten for speed. 

But pills? What even where those called? He made a guess for Adderall, but then Frank's full name came back to his mind and a lightbulb went off in him—Molly! Of course. This sneaky son of a bitch made his friend deliver the message by claiming it's his middle name. He could've at least put a number somewhere as well...

Another lightbulb went off in him, but this one flickered. Cell Nine? Nine bucks for a pill? Seemed kinda over the top, maybe half then. He'd just sell a slew of six for three bucks and call it a damn day. 

 

. . . 

 

Those inmates surely had alota paper to spend, and they saled him out quicker than a hungry flock of sharks bombing right into a school of fish. 

Brendan decided his favourite customer was a tall guy with dread locks framing his bony face. Not because his green eyes pierced right through him and made him feel floaty, but because he bought six heart shaped pills from him, put them in a fist after the purchased, knocking said fist six times against his chest and blew him six kisses as he left in thanks for the good sell. 

Okay, yeah, guilty as charged—it was because he made him feel floaty. 

He surely had a thing for sadistic dudes. 

Another five guys inspected the pills, arguing among themselves which they thought was worth buying. Brendan recognised two of them, it were the latinos he'd seen in the bathroom when he blazed up his first joint from Frank. 

Wow he was making memories here.

The one with sideburns reminded him a little of Skinny-Dave, and he was holding a superman shaped pill and two greens in his palm, showing them to his friend André. "That the ones that give you headaches, ain't they?"

"If you're a puss, that is." Said André, winking at Brendan. Customers were always such teachers pets when they hoped to get a good deal out of you, just something Brendan noticed and found amusing. He smiled back pleasantly. 

"Damn right, man. Maybe your friend want one of these instead...?" Brendan pinched a pink pill between his thumb and index finger and held it up.

The guy just stared blankly at it and Brendan feared he'd attack him any moment, but finally he shrugged and snapped it out of his hand, handing him over the cash. "Take it and keep your wits inside, got it?"

"That'd cost extra." Brendan clapped back, feeling the need to stick his tongue out but did not in case it'd come off faggy. 

André barked out a harsh laughter, slapping Brendan's shoulder brotherly and said, "You're good. I like you, man." 

And since Brendan felt extra good today because he'd found this bag of joy under his pillow, reminding him of the good old times when his mom would give him a cigarette in exchange for his tooth when he was little, he picked another pink pill from the bag and sneaked it into André's pocket in a very obvious and comical gesture. André acknowledged that with a smirk before he kept it moving after his friend. 

Man, dealing was a great job.

 

. . . 

 

Brendan walked up the stairs and then through the hall like he owned that fucking place. He had cash in his money making him temporarily rich, bunch of new customers who didn't seem half bad, and to top it all off with a huge ginger cherry he bumped directly into the guy he was looking for. 

Frank came out of Office B with his head down, looking a little worn with his ginger hair all over the place, but once he lifted his face, startling a little with the surprise of seeing Brendan so early, he covered it all up with a charmed smile, proving he wasn't going insane yet with whatever Shells had tasked him with. 

"Molly?" Brendan said, smirking boyishly. 

Frank caught onto his intentions quickly and reciprocated the smirk with a nod. "Uh-huh. Done the deed, my pill boy?"

"Bet I did." Brendan boasted, slapping his left pocket where he kept the money in check.

"Well done. Meet me at the ninth." Frank walked past him, letting his shoulders slack back as he took on his casual posture. 

Brendan hung back around a little until he made sure none of the guards had witnessed their interaction. Only then did he make his way to cell nine, where he abruptly turned the corner and broke into a smug expression once he was in the shade of the wall. A cloud of smoke sailed his direction. Frank was already killing up a cigarette, sitting on the far edge of his bed. 

"Alright, alright. Show me what you got in your pockets then, and let's hope it's not a vibrator you'd like to use on me." Frank said, standing up and incidentally blowing a thick line to the ground. 

Brendan smiled proudly as he reached around his pants till he felt the paper against his fingertips and brought it out. He lobbed it over to Frank. 

He began counting the money, all right, and for some reason Frank Peterson was the kind of guy who was incredibly hard to read. Like for example Brendan was under the fair impression that the thirty four dollars in total would make a guy smile a little more apprehensively, but Frank did not. Frank looked like he was handed monopoly money and tried hard to pretend he was impressed for the sake of a naive kid watching him. 

Then he snapped. "Brendan Smart."

"Huh?" Brendan raised a brow. 

"Just... what the hell is this?" Frank held the money up. When he didn't get an answer he threw it his direction where it showered down before his shoes, landing with a crisp sound on the cement. 

"Well, what's it look like to you, punk." Brendan was getting irritated himself. When people were being ungrateful for his selfless deeds it just kinda had the effect to make him flush with anger and purse his lips. "You got me those shabby pills. I played tooth fairy and turnt them into money. So act a little less like a brat about it, how about?"

Brendan glanced at the bills, thinking maybe he actually was in the wrong and got somehow tricked with fake money. But when he picked one up and held it against the light he knew this wasn't the case. 

The case was simple: Frank thought Bren's some kind of ultra dealer who could surely make a mill out of a pill. Well dream on, bastard, Brendan wouldn't be working for him if that was it.

"And that is very fine of you, I couldn't ask for a better pill boy if I'd want the entire prison to worship me—Which they probably will after what you've done."

"What's wrong with that? Gets you more customers." Brendan shrugged. 

"They were all nice to you, weren't they? Lots of smiles?"

"Yeah, so?"

"They were poking fun at your degenerate brain! That's what. They got a good pocket-friendly deal. While you were out there getting shorted. Do you understand now? The money," He pointed at the ground. "is only half of what those pills were worth. Jesus H. Christ." He threw his hands up, thumbing at his temple in the next moment. 

The cell felt way too small all of sudden. Brendan stood there, feeling shame run through his system. To get the attention off him he kneeled down to pick up the money into a neat stack, then leafed through it a couple of times like that could change the sum. "It's still a lot of money. Could get you a phone, nice pair of sneakers. I don't know, you can hustle around—"

Frank cut him off. "Tell me, how in the world did you allow yourself to fall off so badly? Did they threaten you? Was there a moment where you looked at those pills and decided you felt so good today you'd just go around and slip them for free to the next guy, was there?"

There was. He did let a pill slide for free to André, but that hardly made up the rest of the loss. He rubbed his neck and shrugged again. "Not really. I wasn't sure what they sold for, assumed not much."

Frank slandered over to the bars, coming to a stop close by Brendan and chuckled. He really didn't sound like the Frankly Frank Brendan had laughed together with when they were mocking Aaron Sotoson. It sent creeps down his spine, because with a cold instant he knew this guy was not to be trusted. 

He probably wasn't joking back then when he was threatening to rape him, and he was probably not being truthful when he claimed the rape accusation of his ex had been fake. Frank got it all twisted. 

"Listen, man." Brendan ventured up, pondering briefly how he could negotiate for his safety but there weren't many options. "I didn't know better. Did a shitty job, won't deny that, all right. So we can just forget about this, and you'll tell me the price next time? Or you can even go so far as quit doing business with me altogether, would make perfect sense after that lousy job. Your choice."

Frank snapped his lighter on, stared at it and laughed. If he thought what Brendan was thinking then Brendan better sought the exit. But unlucky for him Frank was standing right by the opening, blocking his way out. 

Frank spoke up again, letting a finger hover over the flame. "Well isn't that sad? You were stupid and I don't know if I can believe you. How should I know you're not selling me out by pretending you didn't know?"

His caged-in state made Brendan sour out of helplessness. He couldn't help his temper when he raised his voice at Frank. "I've only ever sold weed! That's how your punk-ass knows. If you need someone to do a better job than getting thirty four bucks to your needy ass, go fucking look for someone else!"

Frank sighed heavily, shaking his head, then with such suddenness that it was almost aggressive he wheeled around, swiped Brendan's legs from underneath him and tackled him to the unforgiving floor. He grasped a handful of his dark curls in a fist and held him steady as he pressed the searing-hot metal of the lighter against Brendan's lips. 

Brendan had bitten his tongue in the process, something that held him back from throwing a smart at Frank because it was fucking hurting. 

"Don't wanna be a burn victim, that was it, right?" Frank said smugly, rubbing his thumb over the switch as if demonstrating to Brendan that he could easily turn it on, at any moment, and turn his fear into reality whenever he wished. 

This sucked ass.

"Fair to say," Brendan said once the ache in his tongue had subsided and was merely an uncomfortable pulse.

Fear slung a death grip around his throat as Frank pressed his thumb down. A fire sparked up, licking at Brendan's lip, causing him to jerk his head back and hit it against the cement. Synchronically he felt pain in his cupid bow so as the back of his head. He moaned, pressing his wet tongue against the stinging burn. 

Franks greyish green eyes locked with Brendan's and locked in such a way that Brendan took a deep breath, a desperate look around, and pressed his lips together. This guy really meant what he meant. 

Frank's parched thin lips grew up into a confident grin. "Watch those words. They look better in your throat. Locked behind those pretty, plump lips." He placed the lighter back against his bottom lip, but now he was also rubbing it along the line of his mouth. 

Brendan knew by now that Frank wanted to turn him into a burn victim. But as he stared up at his freckled face, inches away from his own, he noticed something else too. A hard little something between the legs that held him down and kept him from moving. 

"You really wanna fuck me, huh?" Brendan rasped.

Frank's expression didn't waver, it stayed blank as the walls behind him. "That's true, I do wanna fuck you. And you know why? Cuz I've been here long enough to start lusting after sex, like some primitive ape, no matter with whom for that matter, and you're the closest to a girl I can get."

Brendan blinked. "You're saying I look like a girl,"

"I'm saying you're quite feminine, is all."

"How the fuck am I feminine to your gay ass?!"

"Your lips. for one. Your hair. I'd even say your nose does, it looks soft," Frank disrupted pressing the lighter against his lips to touch his nose briefly. "Is soft. A couple of features, yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if you were actually fucking your psycho friend—letting him fuck you."

Brendan made it a responsibility to remember that his hair was gay so he could go at it with scissors later. A buzz cut maybe. Brendan Smart was not gonna be a bitch to anyone

"You get that money back for me." Frank continued with a cold finalty to his words. 

This brought Brendan back from his awestruck. "What? How?"

"Get creative. But whatever you do, bringing back the money to me is gonna be your top priority. A set thing in your future, strictly permanent." He let go off Brendan and eased himself on his feet, adjusting the tent in his pants nonchalantly. "Now bounce off, my pill boy. You haven't lost the job yet."


	13. Sad Blowjobs

If he couldn't scrap up enough money Brendan figured he could somehow lead Frank on for the last three days he needed to sit out in Juvie. This seemed possible. Every day he'd ask him if he got the money Brendan would say Almost, just gimme one more day. He'd say it three times and a fourth time wouldn't be necessarily because he'd long be the fuck out of here. 

He thought this through while he was bent over before the sink, holding his cupid bow stretched out towards the running water to cool the burn. It'd probably give him a blister the next day regardless of what he did to help it but at least it gave him a relief from the pain. 

He closed his eyes, dwelling in the soothing fall of cold water, when suddenly a voice startled him from behind. 

"Nice ass," Was what he heard before two hands came slapping down his butt cheeks and gave them a firm squeeze. Brendan flinched backwards and came in contact with lips on his neck. When he spun around the person smoothly pressed their body into Brendan's pinning him to the sink by holding it with their hands on both his sides. 

"My stars, Dave!" Brendan hissed furiously. His heart was throbbing wildly against Dave's chest. "What's your fucking problem?!"

"You. You are a big problem." Dave quipped, his hooded eyes landed on Brendan's lip. "Kissed Satan...?"

Brendan sighed. "Something like that, yeah, I guess."

Dave titled his head and stuck his tongue out, flicking it gently against Brendan's cupid bow which was severely red from irritation. Brendan's eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaped him to the sensation of Dave wetting his upper lip. For some reason this had a more soothing effect than the water had on him which was degrees colder. 

Brendan put his hands around Dave's forearms, raking up his sleeves as his tongue stopped working on his upper lip and slid past it into his mouth. He nudged Brendan's teeth to which Brendan opened his mouth wider, allowing their tongues to mingle and play. 

He exhaled heavenly against Dave's hot breath which was pleasantly close to his, enjoying the simple act of just making out without any intentions of furthering this into sex. 

When Brendan managed to pull Dave's sleeve up to his elbows and began to just lazily stroke his arms Dave resorted to kissing his neck and strike up a conversation between kisses. 

"You should've been there. Was almost like playing manhunt, but pussy version."

"Because you didn't grapple each other?"

"Because we couldn't grapple each other and make it painful. Sucked ass. Painful is the only way."

"Oh yeah?" Brendan didn't meant to make it sound like a challenge but apparently Dave took it as one because he clamped his teeth around the skin on Brendan's neck and bit it enough to make Brendan flinch. He had to admit though that this was hot. 

"Depends on the kind of pain though."

"You like that kind...?" Dave bit at his neck again then sucked the skin into his mouth, no doubt bringing purple hickeys to life which he'd be admiring all day long tomorrow like the narcissistic idiot he was, totally proud of his work.

"Sure do."

Brendan wanted to push him away lest Dave turned his neck into a bad attempt of painting a poppy field with only your mouth and some skin but the job of stopping him from creating another ten bruises was taken from Brendan when someone bellowed at them from the open gate. 

It was the word that triggered Dave severely—FAGGOT!—so it was of no surprise that he jumped from Brendan and took on the chase after whoever shouted it. 

Brendan laughed to himself, rubbing his neck dry of Dave's salvia as he walked over to his bed and collapsed into it. Today was definitely a long day, and all he wanted to do now was take a nice hot shower and wash his troubles down the drain, maybe some cum too. 

He closed his eyes, listening to the fight noises in the hallway that echoed back to him. How nostalgic that was, reminded him of home where this happened on the weekly. 

The fight didn't seem to end any time soon as the sounds only increased in volume. He could hear Dave roaring at this motherfucker, delivering defty punches right at his torso. So Brendan thought this was the perfect timing to sneak out and give Dreadlock boy a visit who batted him out of half the money Brendan needed to save his own ass. 

After a quick search he found Dreadlock down the hallway just walking into his cell, shaking his matted blonde hair around like he was at a concert. Brendan paced up and slapped his bony back once he got close enough to him. 

Dreadlock turned around, confusion clearing into delight as he recognised Brendan and most likely remembered the good deal he got out of him. 

"Oh, you again. Hey there! Need me to take something off of you? I'm loaded with cash."

"About that..." Brendan cleared his throat, attempting to bring on a serious expression but his lips felt like giving out his infamous fake-smile so he guessed they were doing that then. "Listen up, dread boy. You gotta hand me them pills back, or pay up for the difference you thought you got to save. But guess what? I need it back. You ain't saving nothing here."

Dreadlock slowly took his hand out of his dreadlocks, stared at him with his mouth parted and then like a fucking geyser laughter bursted out of him. After a whole minute he slowly got his act together and Brendan looked degrees angrier than he did previously. What an ass Dreadlock was. 

"Sad story, man. But ah-uh." He waved him off and continued the walk to his bed.

Brendan closed his eyes, shook his head slightly and snorted ironically. "No, man. You didn't understand me—I meant like, I fucking need it back. For real."

Dreadlock sat on his bed and lied down, carefully putting his dreadlocks over the pillow so he wouldn't lie on it. "Nah."

"Dude, you can't just Nah me. There's some guy, he's really pissed at me for shorting off myself like some idiot, he says i need to get it back so I need it back. Just twenty bucks, shouldn't be a big deal, I'm sure you spend more on conditioner for that nest."

"Hey, what I do to take care of my hair is none of your concern. Back off."

"Can I have it back?"

"No," Brendan was about to drop on his knees and beg but Dreadlock added something. "I'm not going to give you my money or pills for nothing, but, you could surely earn it."

Brendan face lit up with hope. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dreadlock nodded thoughtfully, giving him a once/over. Something that Brendan had learn to distrust when it happened to you in Juvie. And he wasn't wrong to do so because what Dreadlock had in mind was dirt wrong. "How good is your tongue? What it do?"

"Excuse me?"

"A blowjob you know what that is? I'd give you it for a blowjob."

"Yeah, yeah, I got that part, all right, but...What The Fuck?!"

Dread shrugged. "Your choice. Be damned or mouth fucked."

Needless to say, Brendan left the cell without the money in his pockets. On his slouch back to his cell his eyes wandered from one cell to another; He didn't have much hope in asking André about the same thing, he might've been nice to him before but that was only for business reasons, if Brendan came to him with a problem he'd be dropped cold, he knew that now.

He could ask Dave to beat this shithead up for him, and he did seriously contemplate doing just that, but he couldn't do it for two reasons; One, Dave already had enough time on his sentence. And second, he didn't want to be responsible for another Aaron Soto case so it involved some new morals he didn't know he had.

He turned the corner to his cell but never got to enter it because a certain Dave threw a towel over his head and steered him all the way to the showers. Brendan staggered before him, groping the air with his hands like a blind man. "What are you doing?" He sounded irritated at first but then he stumbled over his own foot and giggled. "Fuck."

"Shower time!"

"Yeah, no shit. I asked why the hell you—oh fuck—why you put that thing all over my head."

Instead of responding Dave pulled the towel off him and pushed him through the open door of the bathroom. "Dude watch it!" 

Once Brendan had caught himself he turned around to Dave who was laughing at Brendan's expense, and noticed some dried blood smeared under his nose. "Got it up your nose?"

He shrugged, rubbing the back off his hand against it without much success of cleaning it. "A little bit. Who cares?"

"Got him good?"

"What do you think?" The smirk on his face lead him to think that he got him more than good so that was his answer. And god, bloody nosed Dave had a certain kind of sex appeal to it. Brendan could just do him right there, and as he watched Dave take off his clothes and fling every clothing article towards the corner, his arousal just grew by the second. 

That's when he realised; He had plenty of sex, but he never gave anyone a blowjob, ever. And he sure as hell didn't want Dreadlock's dick to be one of his firsts he played with, his must've been nasty like them dreads.

"Gonna wash yourself with clothes on?" Dave's voice carried him out of his thoughts. Brendan stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, stared for a long time, then got back into motion and stripped to his briefs, feeling Dave's eyes on him the same way Brendan's had lingered on Dave. 

As Brendan grabbed his briefs with the intent to pull them down, he suddenly changed his mind and stopped himself to bite down his bottom lip, locking eyes with Dave. 

Across the public bathroom Dave looked like he just wanted to come over and tear that last piece of clothing from Brendan's body, murder into his neck and pin him to the tiled walls while he did so.

But instead of doing any of that he put on a shit-eating grin and cocked his eyebrows up. The air between them must've been bristling with friction because Brendan could feel the static punishing him with shocks to his stomach, and especially his cock!

And then, surprise! Cockblock!—The door swung open behind them, letting a third person enter the room. It was kinda funny because had said person waited a minute longer he'd have become a witness of a dirty act.

"What a sight." Frank said with a dear all-mighty voice, giving each of them a nod as he passed between. "Pimple. Brendan."

"Dickhead." Brendan greeted him back appropriately, a fake-smile on his face which Frank couldn't possibly see because he came to a stop a few feet away from them, back turned to him, and beheld the upper barred-window for a long time. It was already weird enough but then calmly undressed himself like they've all arranged this beforehand between each other. 

Dave shot Frank a hateful look as he trudged over to the showers. And once they were all under the cascading water he was the one enjoying himself the most underneath it; making weird grimaces when he held his face against the spray, shaking his head like a feral dog; danced; Typical Me-Crazy things. 

Brendan wondered why Dave didn't shower more often back home because by the looks of it he seemed to have mad fun. But after longer examination Brendan noticed Dave's fooling around was part of a plan—which focused on taunting Frank.

It gave Dave the chance to present his dick more openly and attract attention towards it from Frank whose boyhood was a sad-looking small one, just like the ones getting drawn on big majestic portraits by people in 18-something. Which was kind of a waste of material, given their plonker  could fit just fine on a piece of index paper—a folded one!

Brendan didn't initially care about the size of Frank's, every man for himself after all, but he got infected by Dave's amusement over it that he started finding Frank's dick just as hilarious.

This whole bullying happened all without words, just some funny looks, stances, and laughter babbling out of Brendan because he failed keeping himself contained.

Frank glanced at Dave from time to time, catching him doing some exaggerated stretches, where Dave put shampoo on his crew cut and stuck his hips out. 

Brendan couldn't fucking help himself with all the snorting he did but Frank didn't even acknowledge either of them, he put the smallest amount of shampoo in his palm and massaged into his skull right under the running water so it didn't even get the chance to unfold its effects before it was discarded in the drain. No wonder his hair always looked so flat.

Brendan on the other hand used mostly conditioner, handfuls. Because if he used the same amount Frank did his hair would look like a fucking nest. At home he used to use his mom's shampoo until she got locked up and he had to pretend he was buying shampoo for his girlfriend from there on so he wouldn't end up balding like Nolan.

When Dave stopped fooling around to rub the shampoo out of his hair with harsh aggressive rubs, where water sprayed all around him, Frank slapped the tap down and removed himself from the shower area, drying himself off with his back to them again. It was like he'd rather have them see his flat ass and chicken legs than the poor excuse of a boyhood.

Once he had his detention clothes back and and headed to the door Dave broke the awkward silence by shouting, "So short, Size zero!"

Frank's hand hovered over the door handle, he seemed to contemplate wether it would be stupid to involve himself with Dave, decided it was, and slammed it down. The door clicked shut. Surprisingly enough Frank made a quiet exit instead of passive aggressively slamming it into its locks.

Weird people all around.

"Don't you think that was a little over the top?" Brendan said, smirking idiotically against the spray of water that came from the wall at his face.

"He calls me pimple."

"Fair." Brendan brushed the rest of the conditioner out of his hair which felt like it needed a little bit more of it because it was still quite dry against his palms, but that'd mean Dave would get out before him and he didn't need that. 

He hopped over to Dave's sides, pressed his lips together into a hidden mischievous smile and trailed a few fingertips over Dave's slick chest. 

Boy was gonna get it tonight—well, now.

"I like it when you're being an ass to others." Brendan lulled. "They're all living too good, you know. Sometimes you pick the wrong folks, but just now it was the perfect choose."

Dave's eyes were downcasted to Brendan's fingers, his expression confused, but he caught onto his intentions quickly. "So what? You're gonna thank-fuck me now?"

"God no, silly kid! Hell nah!" Brendan exclaimed, because hello? Why'd he risk being seen getting fucked by Dave when he could instead just go down on his knees and blow him a good round?

Dave opened his mouth to say something but Brendan kissed the words back inside, kissed him gently—He'd already figured that this had the best effect on Dave and made him misty out of this world quicker than an ecstasy trip.

Dave put his arms around Brendan like a pair of protective wings, and Brendan trailed a hand down Dave's sturdy chest, over his stomach and between his legs to fondle his dick hard. 

Once the kisses became dreamier because Dave was getting out of his own head Brendan lowered himself to his knees, on the floor that pooled with water, to get face to face with the monster he'd brought to life. He smirked tastefully, craning his neck to get a sight in of Dave's awestruck face. 

"What? Why're you looking so surprised? You were the one calling me a sex addict after all."

"Not surprised... just really turned on." Dave said, a dirty grin etched into his face. Even though he just took a shower he looked sort of rough; the pimples on his forehead were a little reddened; his hair was darker and stuck to his skin; and water kept finding its way to his lashes and bothered him. 

This was enough sight for Brendan to catch some tingles in his belly, getting him more riled up to go through with it, because he noticed that once he was actually on his knees he wasn't too sure about this after all. Wouldn't that be ultra gay sucking another guy off? Whatever. That train already passed once Dave put his cock inside him.

He pressed his plump lips experimentally against the head, squinting at he length before him. It was smaller than his own but dicks surely looked bigger close up—piece of wisdom that could be applied to the real world.

Dave's hand found it's way to Brendan's head, threading into the wet curls, which served as a surefire way to encourage him to go on. Brendan opened his mouth up, taking in the size and trailing his tongue under it. He closed his eyes. 

It was like having a party in his mouth, feeling the silky smooth but firm skin, having it rub against every inch of his mouth. Maybe it was because Brendan knew how good it felt to get head that he started experiencing sympathy pleasure, but whatever it was it made him moan around Dave's cock, sending vibrations into him which made Dave exhale harshly. 

"Yeah, chug that cock, baby." He husked, making a fist with Brendan's hair in it. The tug on his scalp sent tingles down his neck. 

Brendan rolled his eyes, but his degrading choice of words was kinda nice to hear while he did a degrading deed. He popped the cock back out, parting the thread of salvia by licking his lips before he went right back in. 

As Dave neared his orgasm he began pounding into Brendan's mouth, almost taking all the work off of him as Brendan just had to knee there and let him have at it. 

Brendan sure as hell didn't want cum in his mouth tho, he wasn't ready for a distasteful surprise so when he thought the time came he took him out of his mouth and began using his hand to finish him off. 

He craned his neck, smiling invitingly as his grip around Dave's cock got tighter and tighter, nearly strangling the poor thing, and then it happened; his cum splashed on his face, huge white gobs which Brendan nearly got in his eyes. He must've surely looked like a vitiligo type by now.

"Fuck," Dave cursed under his breath. "always wanted you to suck my mean one. Your lips are made for this job."

"Really?" Brendan asked, breathing heavy himself. He felt like he had gotten that blowjob done on him.

"Yeah, they're real soft and great, 'n all."

"No, I meant, the you always wanted it-part...?"

Dave didn't answer. He leaned back against the wet tiled walls, panting it out with his eyes closed. For once he looked peaceful.

When he caught his breath enough to breath more calmer he pried one eye open, looking toward Brendan who was sitting reclined against the wall, flushed face in clear view as he leaned his head towards his shoulder like he was out basking in the sun—now basking in the bad light. 

"Why are you all hot and bothered? You're acting like you were the one receiving this awesome head."

Brendan smiled at the grading of his awesome job. "Your cock's like candy. Do whatever you want with that information, see it as some generous egostroke."

Dave lowered himself next to him and Brendan nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Dave's hand gently wiping away the cum from his covered face. As the heights of arousal were wearing off Brendan remembered some bad aspects about his life again, like the current themes of how friendly strangers fell back into their asshole selfs; Frank now threatening him with fire if he didn't get the dough together. 

Damn it, this is why he hated sentimental loving shit like this, it always reminded him of the bad things with a much stronger power to it because you just knew those bad things would outlive and destroy the good things eventually. 

They always did—Like when his parents seemed to get better, presenting a decent meal on the table which wasn't fast food for a change, and tidied up the living space with delightful chatter, it all collapsed just the same from one day to another like some stupid relapse. They did a crime and got locked up for it. Just. Like. That.

"What's wrong?"

Brendan turned to Dave with a funny look on his face. Never had he ever thought would those words slip from that guy's lips, it was almost like he was able to care for something.

"Nothings wrong."

Dave didn't pester him further, instead he said something about himself. "Juvie ain't even that bad. Makes me think that I don't want to get back home. There's way more fun stuff going on here. And homes never fun with my maw and paw."

"Good stuff like getting awesome blowjobs from me?"

"Getting awesome blowjobs from you. Beating up peasants. Showing off my dick to fags with small dicks and then getting a blowjob from black beauties cuz i got a nice dick that scares gingers."

Brendan's funny look persisted. "You know I didn't blow you cuz you scared ginger, do you?"

"Yeah, you blowed me cuz you're crushing on Me-Crazy."

An explosive laughter shot from Brendan's throat and then he was pressing his forehead against his knees, laughing so hard that Dave must've started wondering what his effing issue was. And once the laughter subsided Brendan really didn't feel like lifting his head from there because of the sobs he faded into. 

They just lurched out from his throat and he could do little to stop that from happening, especially because he was starting to feel cold from being naked and wet so there was little to no comfort to remedy this very unfortunate outcome. 

"So, what is wrong with you?" Dave repeated his first question. Brendan decided to just answer him then, he was crying already, what worse could happen?

"I have to give some douche a blowjob to pay off some debts, figures." He rubbed his eyebrow bone against his kneecap, then his eyes which where heated from the crying. 

"How much?" 

"Twenty," Brendan sighed pathetically. "Well, forty-four, but I could surely negotiate it down a little."

There was silence for a moment, then Dave began laughing rudely. Which wasn't too unexpected but it did stroke Brendan the wrong way.

"Sucks to be you!" Dave broke in, reaching upwards and then water was thundering down at Brendan again. Brendan felt stupid for telling him now, it was kinda predictable he would handle this immaturely and Brendan really needed to suck it up. Worse things could be happening to him. 

He leaned his head back, allowing the water to rinse off the cum on his face and even brought out an idiotic smile. He was making a big deal out of nothing. There he was, getting out of this shit hole in three days and he worried about some scrawny dude with a small dick threatening to melt his good looks off.

He could hear the water above him and the spraygrounds in the far distance of his mind. Maybe he did miss home, maybe so. 

"Gonna pick yourself up?" Dave asked, already heading over to the abandoned clothes, his feet making splashing sounds across the water spilled all over the tiles. 

"Yeah, yeah, just a moment."

 

. . .


	14. All fights start out silly

Brendan made really ugly crying faces into the reflection of the shabby mirror over their sink. He curled his top lips snugly around his teeth, barring his teeth, or opening them so his tongue could do weird gobby things.

See, he just wanted to appreciate some time alone with his face should anything ever happen to it. He would always be able to look back to this moment and know just exactly how sexy he was. And damn, he didn't want to be weird or anything but if he had a clone of himself he'd be willing to fuck himself, like actually. 

Skinny-Dave talked about this once, when he was extra high on one of Brendan's freebies he started coming up with weird topic after topic and fucking your clone was one of them. 

Brendan told Skinny-Dave then that he was gay as fuck for wanting that but now he actually saw that Skinny-Dave had a point. 

Dave, not Skinny-Dave but Me-Crazy Dave, was relaxing on his bed, legs far stretched out from the edge so he looked quite bum-ish. He was watching Brendan with a pained expression, no doubt cringing at his weird behaviour. 

But Brendan didn't bother about him, he concentrated too hard on crying loudlessly and without tears while contouring his face up, pressing his eyebrows far together or up to his forehead. Wow, he could really make himself ugly like that. Thankfully it was only temporarily though, well, unless Frank of course—

"That's it!" Dave shouted,  jumping up, causing Brendan to flinch. "Can't watch this bullshit no longer! Take this." He tore a brick out from the cement walls, a prison safe Brendan didn't know they had, let it drop hard on the cement ground and violently reached inside and brought something out inside his fists. Then he threw it in front of Brendan's feet like he was paying some kind of stripper for dancing so nicely.

Brendan blinked, not able to comprehend what just happened and what he was seeing on the ground. "What? You're giving me money? Where the hell would you get that?" He was kneeling on the ground the next moment, picking up bill after bill. It was twenty-five of them in total.

Dave crossed his arms in front of him chest, looking extremely pissed with no clear cause. At least none Brendan could tell. "And you're gonna tell me that bastards name. Both of theirs. What his maw name him, Ginger pubes? And the other dibshit, one with filthy hair...?"

"I don't know..." Brendan whispered beside himself. "I simply call him Dreadlock. But Ginger's name is Frank Peterson, doubt Molly is his middle name, but could be. Is that good for you?"

"Good enough." Dave stomped his foot and strode towards the exit. Brendan watched after him, too late puzzling himself together and asking where he was going because once he managed to form words in his mouth Dave was already out the cell. 

Shit. 

Realisation dawned upon slowly but when it did his heart kinda stopped working. He was surely gonna kill those guys, no way would he go and handle this civil. Brendan felt the need to go after him, but something stopped him; the money in his hands. With that his troubles were basically blown away, he could pay his debts, sit out the rest of his time and leave juvie without any harms inflicted upon him. 

Really, it was like the perfect situation for him and Dave kinda deserved more time on his sentence like more weight on a ball & chain anyway. But then guilt sodded over his exhilaration and he knew he couldn't do it, he was hardly a stonehard psychopath that could actually go through with something like this, betraying his friend even though Dave made the decision on himself with his high levels impulsiveness. 

Brendan sighed, packed the money away in his pants and went after Dave. He couldn't let this idiot put himself in more trouble than he needed to be in.

But after ten minutes of no finding Dave Brendan remembered that he was dealing with someone here whose greatest talent and skill was to hide for hours without someone being able to find him, even the police couldn't. So he saw himself with no other choice but head down for lunch that was being served out. He was hungry so Dave was quickly swept under the rug. 

Officer Shelly passed him on the way to the food takeout, and she put on a smile as if the pamphlet thing never happened. "Out and about?" She said cheerfully. "Only here for two more days?"

"Three." Brendan's corrected himself. 

"Good for you, sweetheart!" She patted his arm and laughed as she walked away. Brendan ignored that he was just called a fucking sweetheart and continued to the food lady with a net over her head. 

Once he sat on a free table with his food he stared at, not feeling at all like forcing that down his throat. The first day at prison was quite nice with all the cooked food they were getting, but they've been getting the same meals for days and it made him lose his appetite drastically. 

On his plate were seven fish fingers, mashed potatoes, a small salad literally nobody expect Dave touched, and Dave touched it because he liked pushing his thumb into the halfed tomatoes, pretending it was his dick penetrating a va-jay-jay. He ended up eating three of the fish fingers ans then just sipping on the strawberry milk as he watched the inmates around him and that's when he realised something.

They were all looking at him. And looking at him with either mock or disgust on their faces. 

He frowned at the guy sitting a table away from him and immediately got a response yelled at him.

"How far did it go?"

Brendan rose a brow and the guy went on, a sneer widening on his face in the size of Texas. "Your boyfriend's dick. How far it go down your throat? Or was it even long enough to deepthroat it?"

"Dunno what you're on about." Brendan squeezed the milk box in his fist till it was flat then discarded it on the tray as he stood up to leave. He wasn't gonna be their little entertainment of their lousy prison sentence. They could find something else to enjoy.

But not only three steps from his table he bumped into a guy who was flanked by two pals.

"Don't got your boyfriend around to help you now, huh? Where he at?" The middle man crooned. He was dark-skinned so this was potentially black on black violence. 

Brendan shrugged. "I don't know. Probably fucking yours."

The guy's bushy eyebrows kissed as they came together, his expression hardened. "Whatchu just said?"

"Don't matter. How bout we go out sometime? Forget about their adultery,"

"Yeah? Yeah?! You wanna go out with me? How about you go out with this first." The guy's elbow spanned backwards and then he lurched it with such velocity at Brendan's mug that he barely ducked out of reach. 

But he did and the fist wasted its energy on the air because it sure as hell didn't hit Brendan. Brendan fell into stance quickly, catching the fist midair and tearing it with all his muscle power towards the ground then promptly after let a rabbit fly and smack on the back of the guy's meaty head.

Guy One collapsed on the ground but there were still those other spics standing and Brendan kinda forget about them. So it was kinda his fault when the left wing yelled out a spastic roar and threw himself at Brendan, hugged his middle and tackled him to the ground. 

Brendan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a slap to his cheek, punch to his stomach, and another slap to his cheek. "That's what we do with bitches on our block! That what we do with them! This is what! Gahhh!"

Brendan guarded his face with his fists and then as another bunch of punches came raining down on his stomach, and the cheers around them increased to a football league level, he remembered that this idiot had forgotten to pin Brendan's arms down so Brendan squeezed his fists tighter and fired it at the guy's ugly mug. He kinda looked like Baby Freddie before the blood made it hard to see his face. 

Brendan pulled himself onto his feet and immediately took it on with the last guy but that one only pawed at him with the laziest punches Brendan had ever seen before he disappeared in the crowd. 

"Yeah! That's right! Run you punk bitch! That's what the guys on yo block do best!"

Brendan expected everyone in the cafeteria to come wash him with cheers and all that, but the crowd kinda silenced. They stared at him with absolutely no respect which they should've gained after what show Brendan put up. But whatever, those guys could suck their own dicks, or die trying to do that. 

Brendan panted slightly, put up his middle fingers into the air and brought them all a message. "Fuck the all of you. Fuck you André, fuck you Damien, fuck you Wesley and fuck you Boris." He just ended up shouting names at random then he turned around and jogged towards the stairs, feeling like a stone was sinking down his belly. 

 

. . .


	15. Colour Wheel

Once his foot came in contact with the landing Brendan dropped the facade of the cool guy he pretended to be for the crowd and halted. He was still holding his hands up, still feeling his knuckles pulsating from the fight that wore out of them. He curled them slightly, feeling the need to crush something in them, like Frank's skull for example, or Dreadlock. This piece of shit! He was just so sure that this was Frank's fault, the whole ordeal. 

He heard someone come up the stairs behind him so he continued walking to his cell. As soon as he got there he fell face-first into his pillow, clutching it so tightly with his arms that he nearly ran out of oxygen and let out a muffled scream. 

When he entered the cell he didn't even check his surroundings to make sure if he were alone or not so when he heard a shoe sole scraping down the cement from the opposite side Brendan jumped, jerking his head out of the pillow. He blinked. Just Dave. But what the hell was that?

Dave sat behind the end of his bed, legs widely outstretched and in between them he had a house made of cards stacked up. He blew air from his cheeks and looked over at Brendan, mustering a gentle smile. 

It was so simple but this made the stone in Brendan's stomach break and shoot out a storm of butterflies, and make those butterflies lay eggs, and then break those eggs also into more butterflies, and so forth.

Not having gotten a word from Brendan, Dave focused back on his cards, he took two and held them together until he thought they would stay in that position and let them go.

Brendan pretzeled his arms over the flat pillow and rested his head on it, watching Dave create a house out of nothing and cards. It was kinda peaceful despite of what just happened, Brendan almost already forgot about it but he was sure it would come back to him later when he was bored and his mind unoccupied so he kept himself busy with Dave in his mind, kinda. 

He already had the three triangles together and was making another one for the middle structure. Brendan never really liked doing that he preferred playing solitaire with them, but even that he had given up long ago. Just something that got old once you grew up and your dick kept you busy on your feet, running to the next fill of pleasure. 

When Dave got the fourth triangle together and there was no way Brendan could make him mess it up by distracting him Brendan asked where'd get them from. 

Dave took the batch of cards he kept on his thigh, and began mixing them skilfully like a poker player. "Skully." 

Oh yeah, of course, Skully! Yeah that made perfect sense, no. No it did not.

Brendan gave him an ongoing raise of a brow. When that didn't work he nodded his head to the side, and shook it slightly. And when Dave still didn't get the hint he asked "Well...?"

Dave frowned. "What?"

"Who's Skully or what's a skully?"

"Oh," Dave laughed idiotically. "Some guy."

"Some guy... named Skully." Brendan said slowly. "Dude which guy are you talking about, how the heck should I know someone named fucking Skully?"

"Relax, it's just that one filthy Dreadlock dude."

Brendan tried to make sense of this aloud. "You beat him up... and then made him give you those cards... what?"

"No, are you stupid? I beat none nobody up."

"Well, I thought you did after that brash exit you pulled out of your left sleeve."

Dave stared at his left sleeve and Brendan was so sure he was gonna ask him how he pulled what out of his left sleeve but then he simply shrugged. "Did not. In fact, I only smacked him once because he's an annoying talk, then saw those cards on his bed and took them."

"And he didn't say anything about that?"

"No, why should he have? Was knocked cold."

"After... a single smack?"

"Yeah, a good one to his head."

Brendan broke out laughing. After a little more relaxing on his bed where he imagined someone was massaging his neck, he stood up and walked over to Dave. After carefully manoeuvring around the card house he lowered himself next to Dave, and angled his knees up so he could resume pretzeling his arms for his chin. 

Dave smiled tenderly, and like this wasn't enough to put a mutual smile on Brendan's face, he held a card out towards him in that cool guy way where his wrist showed ceiling wards and handled the card like a smouldering cigarette. 

Brendan took it and immediately felt like a kid again where Dave was the only Dave in their block back then before Skinny-Dave and Fat-Dave put the need up for streetnames, and Dave was only violent to insects opposite to animals and humans. 

Who would've thought the little duckling-fluff haired kid would end up as the total psycho. Him and not his friends who looked more like the stereotype of crime. ( Brendan being black, Aaron being puerto rican, and Freddie being hispanic. White folks never do crime, huh? )

But who was he kidding, at the end of the day it's both the black and the white all-american kids who were sitting out their time in the same cell. Fuck race, it's totally the upbringing's fault.

Dave got a second card and placed it next to the fourth triangle, angling it a little as he waited for Brendan to help him out. Brendan put his card next to Dave's and held it there until he was told to let go. 

When it sat there as the fifth triangle, Dave glanced over to Brendan and said, "We need to talk,"

"If it's about the money, it's okay, I can give it back to you once we're back home. Just don't threaten me with fire or some shit like that. That's kinda tasteless." Brendan slung his arms tighter around his knees and placed his chin on them. For some reason he was starting to feel really nervous, like someone was holding him at gunpoint from behind he wall. He was getting all jittery. 

"Nah, not that. It's just bet money. Can earn it back with the next fight." He paused before he explained himself, lowering his voice. "I don't want you to fuck other guys, or girls, anybody."

Brendan frowned heavily at the card house. "Oh yeah," He said. "you don't want me to fuck other guys and girls, you don't want me to screw no one but yourself, why exactly? What makes you think you could get a say in on that? Because we had sex a couple times?"

"No, asslicker." Dave said, rapidly shaking the tip of his foot as he thought of something to say. He seemed unusually self conscious by now, something Brendan rarely got to witness. It made him feel somewhat important, and he liked that, but his previous rather controlling words still kinda stroked him the wrong way. Like seriously, who did he think he was? His boyfriend?

Brendan laughed flatly. "Okay, what is it then."

"I like you." Dave spat out, rather aggressively like he was forced to tell the truth to officials or something. Brendan's face overlapped into a funny look, he repeated his words more slowly like he needed to say them himself to belief this bullshit.

"You Like Me...?"

"Yup."

"Wow." Brendan's eyes widened. Shit, he felt like laughing again, and extremely so. If someone just randomly came and said the word 'Trousers!' from somewhere he'd literally explode and the only organs that would survive would be his funny bone that would chuckle and chuck itself to death. Oh jesus. He was laughing. And Dave was looking really damn pissed, Crazy Train Mode pissed.

Brendan attempted to say something but ended up only spluttering over his words. "Uh, I don't know, I–" 

"Forget it." Dave stood up, kicked his leg at the card house and stomped through it as it collapsed around him into a sad pile on the ground. He left through the door like the big pussy he was and Brendan laughed it out until the stone brought it all a notch down and made it laborious to utter another sound. 

He stared at the pile, realising what he had just done and noticed, it was too late again. He had destroyed yet another thing because he didn't think first before his actions. 

Stuff like that always kinda just happened out of the blue while you're a stupid green that didn't see it coming because blue isn't across from you on the colour wheel, yellow always is. And yellow is always blinding you from future danger. 

Brendan decided he had to look around once in a while so he didn't just see red like a stupid bull always ready to fight, but also yellow and blue and purple and even green, because he never reflected upon his own actions enough. 

Fucking hell.


	16. Very NSFW, triggering

 

Feeling bad is dangerous. It tends to attract many other negative things. And on the other hand feelings good is sad, because that one is never a constant and can easily fall towards the other. But that all doesn't matter as long as you can keep your head over the water and make it to the shore. 

Just something that Brendan thought about while he was putting the card house back together. And fuck, this was harder than Dave had made it look like. 

He'd managed to put a whole row up but when the tried to build the second row it all collapsed into itself and he had to start over. It must've taken him around fifteen minutes till he finished it, and Dave was still not back. He assumed that he was somewhere taking his rejection out on some poor fella. 

And honestly, Brendan didn't wanna sound like an ass or anything but he didn't get why Dave was so quick to give up, had he just talked a little more maybe he wouldn't have gotten off so bad, maybe Brendan would've even said he liked him too. Or something. People always kinda just give up at the first answer, how so very lousy!

Brendan beheld the little red card house then stood up and strolled into the hallway, stroking the dirt from his butt. Those cement ground always had this bad habit of leaving you all dusted up like you've just got fucked by a fairy. 

He was initially looking for Dave but he didn't even have to search long because once he neared Office B he heard his voice coming from the corner where they had a bench under Office B's shutters. 

Brendan quickly pressed himself flat against the wall and eavesdropped on this very interesting piece of dialogue.

"–Sometimes I do get the urge to hit him. Really hard. His face just does the trick, and then I wanna hit it—"

"What is it about his face that makes you wanna do that?"

Oh wow, that's Shells! Dave actually resorted to talk to that Miss Priss. And oh wow too because he was not beating someone up after all. He gotta give him props for that, he really did.

"Um, it's like, this funny look. Makes me angry. Very."

Brendan's head jerked backwards, with his eyebrows incidentally meeting together. What the hell did he just hear from that little punk? He gave him shit for his facial expression which he couldn't really help? Oh okay.

"How about u tell him to stop doing that?"

Dave sighed sharply. "Will-a fish stop breathin' when-a ask him to?"

Brendan nearly snorted of Dave's stupidity, this fucking nut of a guy after all, but then he froze with the next thing that Dave said, something much softer.

"I think I'm in love him. Or starting to fall in love with him,"

"Awe, little rascal, but that's nice! love is nice!" Her voice pitched softly with the last words and Brendan could only imagine how uncomfortable Dave must be getting at this point. Hell, even Brendan was getting uncomfortable at this point. Dave loved him? Holy shit that's so gay. Brendan didn't know if he could still look Dave in the eyes while he fucked him missionary anymore.

No, actually he wasn't getting uncomfortable. He felt all tingly and warm, he was crushing on Me-Crazy! Gosh that was somehow even worse. Brendan felt his cheeks heatening up and silently as possible removed himself from the area. He didn't want to be there when Dave had finished taking to Shells and bumped into him. Dave would probably feel so embarrassed he'd seriously beat him up. 

But then something happened that Brendan would've traded with Dave beating him up instead. Because it was just much worse than his Crazy Train Mode.

A guy came out from the cell he passed, hugged him tightly around his middle, together with his arms so he couldn't move, and pulled him inside. Brendan wanted to scream but the arms around him embraced him so tightly that even breathing was hard enough. 

He heard the gate slam shut and then his body land harshly against the ground. Everything got darker as if a giant cloud had pulled over them and put everything into shade. 

Once the embrace lifted he inhaled enough air to scream but then something was pressed into his mouth and before he knew it he was being gagged. 

There was heavy breathing close to him, something that sounded like a breathy chuckle. And soon the person spoke up and he knew immediately this was no other cell than the ninth.

"You walked right past this cell without even so as glancing at it. I take you don't have the money? And don't scream when I take this off, I have something much worse than a little flame on me."

The gag was removed and Brendan gasped in a huge gulp of air. He was feeling a little dizzy, but also so angry. "For your fucking information, I actually do have the money. Planned on giving it after I was done taking a piss."

"Taking a piss? On who, me? That's something I don't doubt you were doing, after all this seems like some kind of joke to you." Frank sucked his teeth, and shook his head like he was deeply disappointed in Brendan. "Nah, man. My guts rarely lie to me and they're telling me, no—shouting hotly, that you're a damn liar on your way back to your cell where you'd peacefully wait till I forget about it."

Brendan cut him off. This was getting ridiculous. "I have your damn money right on me. Do you want it or not?"

"Yes." Frank said dumbly. "I do. Where is it? Maybe you won't end up as any kind of victim today after all. Let's see."

Brendan yanked his arm free from the hold and reached around into his pocket while Frank watched him patiently but calculatingly. This punk really needed to see every single corn counted from a cob. 

When Brendan handed the stack to him Frank's expression darkened immediately. He seized Brendan's free arm and put them together on his chest. Brendan scrunched his face up. "That's only half. I'm a full man. You're fucked, boy."

At first, Brendan was getting quite frightened himself, his heart was thundering on a sick beat, his breath shaky, but once Frank transferred him over to his bed it all got a little ridiculous. He wanted to rape him, that was clear, but apparently he'd never done it with a guy and he didn't seem too fond on the prospect to. 

His eyes drifted around Brendan helplessly. Then he scratched his head and said, "So listen, I've never done any of that before–"

Brendan cut him off. "What, you want me to go gentle on you?"

Frank was laughing phonily, then he was not. "No. Rape is never gentle. The thing is that I'm straight, and I want this to be as pleasant to myself as possible, so I don't end up raping myself, you see?"

"What's your point."

"Can you put a pillow over your dick?"

"What—" Frank took the task off him. He wordlessly grabbed a pillow and smacked it down on Brendan's dick, causing him to flinch into himself. This was ridiculous but also deeply disturbing, he couldn't imagine a worse possible outcome than this. 

But as it happened he tried not to think much about it, he just let it happen while letting his mind work to find a way out of this situation and so far he didn't come up with much. 

The treat of Frank that he had something worse than a flame irked him the wrong way, and he wasn't too fond to find out what he meant with that. And maybe it was just this, after all. 

"So you see," Frank went on with a matter-of-fact voice. "I'm going to screw your balls and pretend it's a pussy, all right."

Brendan kinda gagged internally at this, but just shrugged, looking up at the dark ceiling. If there was some god out there, right know would kinda be a good moment to use his power on to stop this. Like he knew he kinda deserved some sort of punishment anyway for what he'd done to Aaron but rape was kinda over the top for a teenage mistake. 

"Um, okay, whatever suits under your radar, man." Brendan said nonchalantly, but he could hear how he was starting to sound less and less confident and strong like he pretended to be. He was starting to waver. This was still better than getting burned though, he supposed. 

He would still be a whole man after this, people would probably not even be able to tell it happened to him unlike it would've if his molester was a flame. And sex was natural, whatever, animals rape each other all the time, why should this be any different?

He felt fingers touching his balls and his train of thoughts derailed into a darker zone. The room wasn't only dark now but gruesome now. He whined at the gentle touch, pressing his eyes shut when he felt something else that wasn't fingers no more, no. 

The air kept blocking like traffic in his lungs. But then all of a sudden he was free of any touch because Frank had jumped off of him. 

Brendan's head jerked up and for a moment he felt some sort of hope that they'd gotten caught in the act and someone—Dave?— had come to Brendan's aid. But then he realised Frank had jumped off because he couldn't do it, couldn't rape a guy, and his face was contoured with disgust. 

"A-are you letting me bounce...?" Brendan asked with a light voice. The pillow was still on him.

"Not that soon." Frank walked back over to him and grabbed Brendan's pants, yanking them back on. "I need that out of my sight, well hell."

In the next moment Frank was totally flipping out, seeing a guy's dick worked like rabies on an unvaccinated animal. Once his pants were back on Frank grabbed him by the collar and pulled him onto his feet, then he shoved him. "Plan B, assemble yourself in the corner over there. And don't move."

Brendan's thoughts screamed at him to throw himself at Frank, knock him out of his consciousness and seek the exit, but his muscles rebelled against any kind of action so he found himself standing in the corner, waiting for something he didn't he was waiting for.

Frank returned to him with two blankets in his hand, some night clothes and tissue paper. He threw it all around Brendan in a circle and Brendan watched with confusion.

"You see," Frank began, studying his work before he inched towards Brendan and put the gag on him again. "Rape didn't work out as planned. So I only got one option left in my pocket—" His hand disappeared in his literal pocket and came back up with the lighter. "—Fire!" He cheered like an old man excited for his roast beef. 

Brendan's face paled. No fucking way. Everything but this. 

"So light it on!" Frank flicked the flame on, illuminated the room in a orangey light then discarded the lighter on the blankets where it landed with a dull thud and hissed with life.


	17. Little Me

Little Aaron and Little me, Brendan. 

Candy cigarettes turn to real ones and the world gets realer too alongside us. But for that one flashback we were still smoking the first ones, living in an unreal world full of childhood memories still creating themselves instead of lingering far behind in the past. 

Aaron Soto never brought a present for Brendan for his tenth birthday but his smile almost made up for it—almost because Brendan was still a little bummed about Aaron drawing him with the wrong shade for his skin the drawing he made of all his friends. ( Brendan, Freddie, Dave and Nolan )

"I'll draw another one of you one day, I promise." Aaron said, a begging look in his eyes. "And it will be the best drawing, too. I really promise, B."

Brendan stood with his arms folded in front of him, pouting angrily. Even Dave brought him a better present and he never gave a shit about anyone. He got him a live cockroach which he put in a red little box which he'd found in his mother's closet. 

It was the box his dad got her when he proposed to her on the beach back in Florida, where he used to make headlines titled Florida man doing crazy shit, and yet all those things there couldn't compete with the things Dave did here in The Bronx. 

Dave was the Florida man of the bronx. This dude seriously got him that! That's wicked!

"How do I know you're not gonna draw me like that again? I'm almost white in your goddamn drawing!" 

The party was going on in the background. Baby Freddie sat on a chair looking really uncomfortable with this all. He glanced over to them from time to time, ignoring Dave who was sneaking bite sized food from the table, ignoring Brendan's parents who were arguing in hushed tones that sounded like a bad attempt of covering up their own fight. And the birthday cake was twinkling on the table with ten candles that looked like waxy candy canes.

"I got the right crayons now, I didn't back when I was drawing that, really."

Brendan pressed his lips together then sighed. "Fine."

"Fine? Truce?" 

"Yeah, truce. Don't mess up again."

Aaron held his hand out and they shook on it, smiling, but then panic washed over their faces. The table came down with a crash. First they assumed it was Dave who got a little too bored of waiting but then they spotted Brendan's dad who had his fists clenched on his sides, steaming with anger. 

His mom was swearing, then repeated mumbling "Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit," while she scurried around getting the kids into the other room while she grabbed a vase and threw the water inside of it towards the birthday cake that was all smashed up on the floor, going up in flames as the candles kissed the carped with feverish sparks. 

Brendan pulled his collar over his nose, coughing. The smoke was fanning over to him and came at him way too quickly. Aaron was pulling at his sleeve, yelling at him to get away but eventually he gave up and ran over to the living room where all the others were. 

Brendan felt something by his feet and when his head craned down he spotted a flame licking close by his legs. Shit, he needed to get out of here, and quick. 

He stomped his foot at the fire before he backed away. His back came in contact with the wall, and over the smoke he could see Frank beholding the arson he was responsible for. 

"Thought you'd at least scream or something. You seem way too calm for having said to me you don't wanna be a burn victim. Change of mind then?"

Brendan stared at him. Could this idiot not figure out that it was kinda hard to scream with a gag shouting you up? Brendan swallowed awkwardly and raised his brows, stomping at flames that came to close. 

There was only some low flames there yet, the feed they got didn't give them the chance to rile up more quicker. But on the other hand the smoke was getting thick quickly, something Brendan worried about. 

"You see, you had this all coming. I'm just the carrier of the punishment that had to be coming your way sooner or later. It's nothing personal really, we can still be friends after this. We had some fun times after all, didn't we?" Frank chuckled darkly and went over the lean against the sink, staring up at the ceiling with a faraway happy look. Like a farmer watching his crops nod in the wind. 

"Oh, Brendan, my pill boy. At least that psycho won't be looking your way anymore and you'll get some peace of mind. Nobody wants to bother with a mutilated person after all, am I wrong? Am I right? You tell me, Brendan."

A flame caught onto the napkin under Brendan's shoe. He tried to kick it away but unfortunately it landed in a pile of more napkins and from there on the flames build up in highspeed. His eyes widened, he stomped at anything coming his way but it was getting spicier by the minute.

"Nice." Frank walked back over to him, standing just three feet away from it. Brendan hoped he'd trip and fall face first into his own mess. "That's more like it—"

Suddenly the gate slammed against the wall and the light from the hallway spilled inside. Frank raised a shoulder and glanced over it, starting to say "What the—" but never came to the Fuck because a fist came like a comet down at his skull, smacking him to the ground with its impact.

"Dude! Step out of here! Why you just standing there!" 

Holy shit. Brendan blinked repeatedly because he couldn't believe his eyes. But then the words started to make sense in his head, and he looked around himself, and realised that he wasn't chained there so he could easily step over the blanket and help himself. But he didn't move.

Dave strode over to him with an exasperated expression, picking up a blanket that hadn't caught onto fire yet and threw it over the active flames. It suffocated them. 

"What's your fucking problem, limp dick?!" Dave grabbed Brendan by his arms and dragged him out of there corner like a kid that didn't grow some brains yet. 

Brendan just stood there, blinking around the cell. Then he spotted Aaron Sotoson who must've come together with Dave in tow. He had stopped by Frank, a haunted expression over his face as he pulled a weapon out of his back pocket—a plastic silverware knife—and dropped to his knees to stab it at Frank's unconscious body. While he was doing so little 'Oh yeah...'s came out of his deranged smile. It sounded like he was getting off, a look at his tented pants confirmed this.

"Oh my. Dave, what's the doing?"

Dave frowned heavily, glanced over at Aaron, then came back with a frown as he faced Brendan. "What?"

"He's doing... you know."

"Yeah, he's knocked out. Let's go." Dave put his hand around Brendan's wrists and pulled him after himself. Brendan's eyes kept glued to Aaron slaughtering Frank there on the cement grounds which began pooling with crimson blood, and he couldn't tear himself away from it, even when they turned the corner he turned his head around so he could get a last glance in. Dave seemed ultra pissed the whole way back to their cell. Brendan smiled dumbly by his side, staggering a little. 

He felt like laughing in hysterics because Aaron just did that, that was really kinda funny in a fucked up way. Because he was getting off on that shit and all, like some weird-o creep-o. It just had a fun appeal to it and was overall kinda funny. Brendan sniggered softly for himself, watching his shoes walking. He felt like a duckling.

Then Dave came to a stop and sat Brendan on his bed before he sat down himself. He squinted at Brendan for a while, brushing some of his curls back from his temples before he his arm sink down his back and stay on his waist. That was kinda sweet, Brendan had to admit. How he did that and all. He saw his card house still up and remembered something. 

"You like me, huh?" Brendan almost cracked up right then when he said this but only giggled lightly, smiling faintly. 

Dave's eyebrows jerked up but then he nodded. "Yeah. I do." He said. "You okay now? The fire catch you anywhere?" He gave Brendan a once over.

"Yeah, I'm good. Will probably be pretty fucked mentally, but I'll pull through." He laughed dimly, fainted a little towards Dave and decided why not just kiss him if he's that close already so he slung his arms around his neck and put one and one together for a little kiss. He's got a psycho hero right here, whew!

And his lips felt so good too Brendan couldn't get enough of their sweetness so he didn't mind putting up more work in moving his lips around them because Dave was kinda passive about it all. But he could only do that for so long because Dave pulled back to give him a puzzled look. 

Brendan was equally as puzzled, like why was Dave being an ass now? Did he expect him to cry or something? Shit was bad but now shit was over and Bren was ready to leave it in the past. 

"Did he touch you? Did you wanted him to...?"

Brendan's eyes darted from one of Dave's brown ones to another and back. Then his face really scrunched up. "He touched me! raped me! I didn't want it!" he shouted, pushing Dave back and standing up himself. "Alright? Now go spread the message that Brendan Smart is a fucking victim, but I ain't gonna cry for you. Definitely won't."

"What? I never said I wanted to see your fag tears." Dave spat back at him. He stood up and got rlly close to his face. 

"Yeah?" Brendan stared him down and almost cheered when Dave was the first one of them to look away. Prison was making this punk soft, it only made Brendan stronger.

"Yeah!" He seized Bren's cheeks and kissed him so hard that Brendan had to take a step back. 

He felt his eyes heatening up, it was like this son of a bitch melted him or something because he began tawing with tears. He cried while kissing him and then Dave lead him back to his bed. 

Brendan expected him to use his vulnerable state to fuck him or something but Dave only drew his blanket over Brendan's body and put his arm around him where it stayed like a heavy weight, pressing comfort into him. 

Brendan found his face pressed to Dave's detention shirt, soaking it up with a new spill of tears. Today's been messed up.


	18. Taking a piss

The last three days of prison came to a close rather apocalyptically. It was quiet, especially in the cell which Brendan rarely left, and when he did it was only for shower late at night when the water temperatures were below zero, or to take a piss. So the only places he visited then were cell six and the bathroom. 

After the terrors of the previous day Brendan woke up to an empty bed. First he didn't even find anything weird about that, because he never slept with Dave in the same bed anyway expect for that one time, but when he started feeling like an endangered species and like the inmates out in the hallway were hunters after that species he started feeling really unsafe. 

He pulled the sheets over himself, trying to be as calm as possible but then he got a little sweaty and gave up hiding—It just wasn't his thing, he'd leave that to Me-Crazy. That nut.

But once he flipped the covers back he heard a noise from the gate and nearly buried himself back under them. The fact that the person already knew he was there, made him not do it. In the end.

It was Aaron Sotoson, looking like he'd just stuck a finger into a socket not because his bowl cut was flying into all directions, no, but because he was twitchy and kept his hands locket before him to stop them from shaking. Yet despite it all he looked a little more relaxed than he usually did, or at least as how Brendan got to know him to be.

He came to a stop a few feet away from Brendan. "T-thank you." he stammered, he his throat awkwardly under Brendan tight watch who gazed at him with doubts.  "For helping me get off! To jerk it, heh! Like you said. I'm much more calmer now, yes, I really really am." He nodded rapidly as if he needed to confirm his own words, cutting his eyes to the ground like he just regretted every life decision that lead him to this very moment. 

Bren nodded awkwardly. "No probs, man. You saved me, too." He said. "Is he, you know, cold now?"

Aaron smiled again. "Ye-s, very cold. I waited till his skin was pale and blue, admired it, jerked off, and then I called a guard over." His smile grew wider and wider with every word. "I only got five more years added!"

"Leteo, huh?" 

"Mhm!"

Fucking hell. Brendan didn't even know what to say, leave alone think about this. This guy clearly had some nails loose and needed a good old hammering to get them all in again, but he was not the guy to do this for him. Maybe this Aaron would come across a guy like Me-Crazy some day and get his nails nailed back in. Sounded kinda wrong, sure, but he really needed that, he thought. 

Brendan tried to let the awkward silence draw out so maybe something would click in this wacko's head and prompt him to leave, but he seemed to interpret Brendan's silence as encouragement to go on. He said, "Do you... uh, do you want to see my collection now?" His eyes were back on Brendan, and wide open with high hopes swimming in them. 

Brendan rubbed his eye. "Look, Aaron, I—"

"No! Please wait! I have it right with me, see," Aaron reached frantically into his pockets and then he was holding something inside his cupped palms, showing it under Brendan's nose. 

Alright, wacko or not, maybe this guy was good for something after all. "That's a nice collection you got there," Brendan said. "Mind sharing?"

"Yes, yes, pick however much you like." 

Brendan held his hands underneath Aaron's and placed an angelic look on his face. This seemed to threw Aaron off and it looked like he was gonna bitch out for a moment, but then he smiled back a little too forcedly and opened a slid between his cupped hands. Dozens and dozens of colourful pills dropped on Brendan's palms with little tap sensations each. 

"Gracious god. You got them all from Frank?"

"Well, someone must take care of them after all. I-I thought he'd want to give me them anyways. He's always been very nice to me, you know."

The memory of Frank poking fun at Aaron together with BBC Toby flashed before Brendan's eyes, but he decided not to bring this up. He nodded. It was almost like he started feeling bad for Aaron Sotoson there, he was just like a clueless kid that thought murdering others was something that's necessary from time to time to please the constant nagging of your boyhood. 

"Sure." Brendan said finally. 

Aaron looked like the happiest kid after getting the confirmation that Frank Peterson only had good intentions with him all along, then hopped over the gate. He was almost out when Brendan stopped him.

"Wait." Aaron turned back to him, fear widening his face up. This was surely the biggest pussy of a murderer Brendan had ever known, but whatever, he had to say some last words because he knew he was probably never going to see this son of a bitch ever again. For good. "I'm sorry, Aaron." He said.

"For what?"

Bren shook his head lightly. "I'm just really sorry, A."

Aaron looked around the place like he was searching for a meaning, then gave up and pointed his thumb over his shoulder "Oh, um, it's okay, Brendan. But do you perhaps wanna come over to my cell so I can show you another collection?"

"Another collection...?"

"Yeah, some... some cards."

"Nah. I'm good." Brendan smiled and waited for Aaron to leave before he stood up. He walked over to his own bed, pulled an empty black dog-poop back from his pillows cover and poured all the pills inside. For better or for worse.

 

. . . 

 

Brendan hid behind his headboard when the hallway before his cell was flooded with the sound of inmates returning from the cafeteria. It must've been three hours since he'd been awake and he was slowly but definitely getting hungry. 

He contemplated wether he should make a quick run to get something and then quickly run back to eat it on his bed, but his plans were crossed when he heard Dave entering and almost sighed from relief. 

He was scratching his head, squinting eyes like he was having a headache then looked around, probably searching for Brendan. When his eyes found him siting next to his bed he was the one with the funny look on his face. 

"Bumming?"

"Yeah, throw me a dollar down, punk."

Dave spat just before Brendan's shoes and laughed smugly. "That one's worth two. Got some snot in it."

Brendan crossed his legs and bent over to look then fell back against the headboard of his bed and laughed. "Sick."

Dave made a gesture that he was moving down to sit next to him so Brendan made some room for him, sliding closer towards the wall. It was like they were at war or something against the other inmates, hiding behind a tank while the storm was brewing behind them. But also like the war was just about ending and they were just waiting out the last attack. 

Yet little did Brendan know the last attack would come from Dave and he wasn't safe behind the headboard at all. Though while they were sitting next to each other it was almost hard to tell this situation would flip the other way. 

"Do you feel hungry? I can bring you some food up." Dave asked after a little while of silence where they were bumping each other's shoes teasingly, playing it out till the other got tired and gave up. Brendan gave up first because food was mentioned and he was really damn hungry.

"Doubt they still have some down there. Just stay here with me?" Fuck, that sounded kinda gay and it were totally the wrong words. It would cause him to starve till lunch, damn it! He was about to change his words when Dave reached into his pockets and produced one of those strawberry milk boxes Brendan liked to drink. 

Brendan's face lit up when he handed it over to him but when he grabbed it Dave didn't let go. Challenge was sparkling in his eyes. "Maybe kiss me first,"

That sounded almost sweeter than strawberry milk. Brendan gladly leaned in, but when Dave closed his eyes and leaned in as well, Brendan dodged his lips and went right for his neck. He had to give Dave something to remember him with after all, he'd be here for one more month because he was stupid and fought down in the cafeteria and was missing out on that fine ass. 

Brendan decided it would also be too sad if Dave didn't even get to hit that before he left so he climbed onto his lip, not breaking his plump lips from Dave's skin and not stopping till he heard a sharp exhale. This sounded all tingles and warmth to Brendan's ears. 

He closed his eyes, deliciously dragging his tongue over Dave's skin. It tasted a little of sweat, but, fuck, skin really shouldn't taste that pleasant. 

Brendan's hand wandered down Dave's pants, gripping his dick in his pants. But surprisingly it was barely even hard, and then Dave put his hands on Brendan's shoulders and pushed him away gently so he faced him. 

Brendan gave him the funny look he hated for it. "The hell...?"

Dave looked right into his eyes, weirdly sincere about this all. "I don't wanna have sex with you all the time only. I wanna take you on a date sometime and love you."

"Oh, how boring. Okay then..." He said. "Love me, love me tender. Fuck." That was awful. This just had the effect to increase the funny look. 

Brendan really couldn't believe this son of a bitch, he must surely be joking to willingly miss out on what was offered to him. "Awe, come on. Just a quickie then? We won't get to be close for a month once I'm gone." 

Brendan brought his hand back to Dave's pants and smiled, but he couldn't help it looking so forced. How could he? Till now Dave's never rejected him. This wasn't at all like the hot shower scene he remembered. 

"Later,"

"Later as in a fucking month later?!" When he didn't get an answer. Brendan fiddled around the only button on Dave's shirt and bit his lip. "How about I fuck you for a change? You just have to lie flat and enjoy my game..."

Dave leaned his head against the headboard, swiped his tongue over his top teeth and cocked his eyebrows. "Hell nah," He rasped, then chuckled. "Don't wanna make that a habit."

"Uh-huh, and why?"

" 'cuz getting it is for pussies."

"Sounds more like you're the pussy, scared of a little sore butt,"

"Whatever. I ain't no switch, you're the bitch."

That did it. Brendan let go of the button and slapped the same spot. But that kinda felt lame so he punched his arm hard and stood up. "You gonna call me that another time and I'm out through the door."

Dave's eyes twinkled with danger. There was a tense moment before Dave's lips moved again and he brought out a really quiet, "Bitch."

 

. . . 

 

It's awkward sharing a cell with someone you're deliberately airing. Especially if you're having some kind of relationship with that person. 

Brendan tried to avoid Dave as good as was possible. He even completely forget about his fear of the other inmates just for the sake to carry out his grudge. 

It also didn't help that Dave wasn't familiar with the concept of apologising so the bitch fit lasted about till the end of Brendan's sentence.

On the last day Brendan was just walking up the stairs when he saw a stretcher being rolled down towards him, pulled by two grim-looking guards. And it might've been covered with a shroud, but that one had some dried blood-stains on them which got a shudder running down his spine.

When they passed by him towards the elevator he could make out one of them saying in a hushed tone, "That boy really got him strong. The face is totally disfigured." he kinda did faint a little towards his fatal neck-break, but a hand that came down firmly between his shoulder blades didn't allow that and pushed him forward.

Brendan raised his shoulder and glanced over it then rolled his eyes at Dave. Of course he was going to play hero, but a shitty one who couldn't bring up an apology. 

He continued walking to his cell where his airing definitely didn't stop. He laved up water by the skin, washing his face by the sink, and incidentally watching Dave from the reflection in the mirror how he paced around restlessly not knowing what to do with himself apparently after the flatline of their relationship. 

The next day looked around the same, Brendan stayed in his room as little as was possible when Dave was around. He either went to the lounging room to watch TV and even striked up a conversation with André who still thanked him for the pills and didn't seem too bummed when Brendan told him he's renewed the price for the new ones Aaron gave him. Brendan was nearly rich then. Hundred and twenty-two bucks by now. 

He kinda forgot about the money he owed Dave and since Dave didn't mention it he just kept the money to himself. What good could that prick use it for anyway? Brendan needed bills to pay once he was back home and his grandfather told him to pay up his half or else he'd have to see himself to his family in North Carolina. Fuck that state and family, they're a bunch of crappers. 

On his last day Brendan decided he needed to leave a reminder of himself at the juvie, he didn't come here for nothing after all. So he made a stroll around the building, breathing in the crisp breezes that announced spring so timidly and felt the sun baking up his back when he faced a grey brick wall, pulled his pants down low and peed against the wall with a mischievous grin in his face. 

He might've been brought down to his knees, many many times, but there was nothing that could dim the spark in his eyes when he did something so shameless. 

But then his expression darkened when he heard someone marsh up the grass behind him then scrape over the little patch of pavement as they came to a stop right next to him. It was Dave. Without another word he pulled his pants down as well and aimed a blast at the same spot Brendan was pissing at. This was highly weird. 

Brendan blew his cheeks up, pouting, watching as he was slowly draining out and only dropping a few droplets. That's when Dave spoke up. 

"You're just such a bitch sometimes."

Brendan cut his eyes at him, his jaw hanging slack. "Uh, what?! Excuse me?"

Dave smiled, shaking himself dry before he put himself away in his pants. He wiped his hands on his pants. "You bitch a lot, and then those bitch-fits. My fucking god."

This kinda felt like a slap in his face. Brendan folded his arms before his chest, staring at the wall with a fallen look, somewhat being insecure all of sudden. 

"I'll miss them."

Brendan looked back to him. "What?"

"Will be pretty stale without your constant nagging in here. You're like a flame that is stubborn enough to still burn on cement ground."

Wow. That's kinda the nicest but also the rudest thing someone had ever said to him. Brendan was conflicted about this, he really wanted to place a mark on Dave's face with the help of a fist, but just the same he wanted to leave marks all over his neck, ones that lasted for a lifetime. He'd need to remake them every few days, but still, a lifetime.

Brendan forced himself to get over his shit for once, it was the last day he'd be seeing Dave without a glass wall separating them after all, and bumped their shoulders together. "And you can be a real goddamn psycho. Don't even get me started."

"Nag. Nag. Nag." Dave said, drawing out each and every nag. He sniggered with a closed mouth. "Don't you think you've seen worse than me already, being in a prison full of 'em?"

"Nah you're the worst of both worlds. You're awfully loving and soft, and awfully brutal. Like a good crazy candy mix." Brendan kept a emotionless face before he burst out laughing. He needed a good old beating to get his loose nails hammered down, too. 

Attending the loony bin right after prison seemed like the appropriate treatment for inmates. But maybe not him after all, because once Dave had him pinned flat on the wall, murdering into his lips, this was all he needed. 

And damn, he was crushed by Dave, and fucking crushing on Me-Crazy!

Fucking hell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Hey so, I didn't plan for it to end that soon but once I wrote that chapter I knew I reached the point of no return and there was definitely no farther to go on from there. SADLY, because I just barely reached the word count of 40k which isn't that long of a book.

But good news! I'm writing a sequel and its gonna be about Brendan and Me-Crazy being back at the block and how they handle their relationship there. The drama levels will probably be the same as here and I already have a vague plot made for that. Idk how long THAT one is gonna be, it could be shorter, it could be longer, it depends. 

Part of the reason why I'm making a sequel is because Me-Crazy has one more month to go and I don't wanna force anyone to read through like 15 chapters without him in it so it makes sense lol. 

Of course I could make Brendan do visits to him or even make him do another crime to get time or EVEN make him date someone else but I'm not into that idea. I want the next book to be on their block.


	19. PART TWO:   Juvie-Free but not free

A/N: Sup sup everyone. This is the sequel to Brendan The Juvie-et. If you already forgot about it here's a recap: Frank Peterson is dead, Brendan and Dave are somewhat in a relationship now but unofficially. And yeah the rest will be explained. 

And holy shit it's really hard to write Aaron's friends for some reason so I'll just do the best I can which might end up making them seem too out of character. I feel like my writing style is not fit for that but whatever lmfao

 

 

 

 

 

Once he was one foot back into his freedom he made a second quick decision; everything that happened in juvie, stays the fuck in juvie. That included getting butt fucked, that included giving out blowjobs, that included nearly getting raped and nearly turning said rape into a consented fuck between two dealers, actual rape, and that ALSO included getting fucking butt fucked by fucking Me-Crazy. 

Brendan ran a exasperated hand through his curls, tugging them slightly before letting go. He'd jogged all the way to Pelham park without stopping and once he got there the familiarity of it all felt odd, the size of the world seemed to have expanded since being locked up in a twenty by twenty cell for a week long and his brain lagged to adjust to the new space. 

The officer that let him go gave him a half-assed pat on the back, said "Let's hope our paths don't cross again. Live long." and he was free to go. Whatever he'd expected would happen after your time was over, Brendan was glad this was what actually happened. No long holds, just getting your ass kicked in front of the door and you're off to continue the lifestyle of a delinquent. And gladly so.

Brendan got all his shit handed to him in a big ziplock bag which included some spare money, his belt, his watch, and his phone he immediately used to ring up some messages before he landed on Aaron—The real Aaron's—chat.

Since there was only the last message was from before the beat up and it was Aaron asking where he was Brendan had some bad thought dawning up in his mind. Maybe he was dead? Well that wouldn't make too much sense because they didn't prolong Dave's sentence to a lifetime. 

Brendan lowered himself on the blue bench nearest to him without taking his eyes off the screen. Shit, it wasn't even like a message would just pop up out of nowhere telling him the same words Aaron Sotoson the total wacko had told him back in juvie: It's okay, Brendan. But the irrational side of his brain was working in high speed then which quickly lead to another unconventional thing—He began spamming the chat with a shit load of apologies. 

 

Holly shit dude, that day, we didn't mean to. For real.

Like no, this was an accident.

Not tryna make myself look less guilty but I swear to god that was not meant to happen

...Like that

I'm fucking sorry, A. 

Dave's sorry too, he's been beating up people in Juvie to take his guilt out there ever since! Fuck.

Meant Me-Crazy, not the other assholes. 

Why did you hug that turd?!!!!!!!!!!!

 

When that was over he blacked out the screen, enclosed the phone in both hands and put his hands pressed between his thighs, then he took in a giant gulp of air—everything in one spastically quick moment.

And then, Brendan just reclined against the bench and gnawed at the inside of his cheek. He didn't have anywhere to attend to, he could literally just chill here till it got dark and nobody would notice. 

He could sit here and watch those dumb birds carrying dried grass in their beaks as they flew over to a trash can and contemplated wether they should build their nest their. And their eyes were so round and big and stupid you'd think they'd go right ahead and do it but a cyclist would race by and get their wings flapping wildly until they were out of sight, changed their mind. 

But Brendan wasn't that kinda guy who just sat somewhere beholding things, he was a man of action so he quickly made up his mind and started walking, hands buried in his grey sweatpants—Yeah, that's the piece of clothing he got framed in by the police, the other was a long-ass white shirt that went to the middle of his thigh, like some dress. 

But he liked to wear those, because when you happened to carry weed around nobody would see the suspicious outline of the ziplock bag in your pants. Just cover it up and go. 

Originally he'd planned to get straight to his court, clap some hands of his friends and go to bed sleep it off. But when he put his head into his neck he spotted a girl walking a yard before him, ass wiggling with every step inside her shiny pair of leggings. 

Some skank he fucked a while back. He didn't even have to see her face to know it's her; her red weave gave her away, so did her all-black clothes, tight and revealing, and her ass. Yeah, especially her ass. 

For a while Brendan just calmly strolled after her, feeling like some kind of secret agent the longer they shared the same path, but the closer they got to the exit the panicky he got. He felt like he needed to prove something to himself, after everything that's happened. He was quite sure yet what exactly it was, but he definitely had to. 

This was worse than a nagging boner.

"Yo, Carleigh!" Brendan shouted. "Why don't ya stop for a minute?"

Carleigh swung her head around, cherry-red locks flipping to her back. She came to a stop, propped her arm on her hip and taking the jewellery on her wrist along which shook out tinkly sounds with every movement. "Daddy B?!" She exclaimed, squinting heavily through her sooty lashes as if the sight was truly unbelievable. "That you?"

Fucking hell what?

Brendan had no idea why Carleigh was calling him daddy. This chick must've gained some kinda daddy issue or something because he sure as hell never heard someone addressing him like that unless he was incidentally fucking their brains out. Fucking hell. 

He decided to let that slide, after all, it could happen to everyone—He surely remembered accidentally calling his teacher daddy in elementary school!

"What's up, girl. Rushing somewhere?"

Her eyes looked left, then her tongue found its way to the purple lipstick that was generously smeared all over her lips. "Sure was until ya stopped me. What for? Parenting advice?"

Brendan laughed, pretending she had said something witty. "If you're on the pill there won't be a need to."

With that Carleigh's eyebrows nearly jumped out of her forehead. "Oh, you dirty boy! You're asking for a tap, ain't you?"

"Well, let's be real, Carleigh. What else would I be asking you for."

"Alrights, why don't we go somewhere nice then?" Her eyes smiled before her lips did because they were pretending to be smug. She held an arm out and Brendan jogged over, hooking himself into it. 

He always liked uncomplicated girls, you just had to ask them something and they gave you a straight answer which was either Go to hell fuck you! or a stroll over to their apartment, preferably parent-free, to give you heaven for a few minutes. 

Carleigh was that kind of girl, but she always gave you hell, and not the kinky kind. It was just kinda bad like that, you always wanted to pull out quick because it was pure punishment down there. But it would be just enough for him to prove that one thing to himself. 

As they walked he could smell her flowery perfume fanning over to her and he felt a sense of carelessness. Maybe being freshly released from prison did that to a person, you were basically back on your feet able to commit another crime or change for the better. 

You could do anything you couldn't do in prison, and then there was Brendan falling back to his old ways, with the change of pills instead of weed in his pants and way more money than he ever had stuffed together with them in the black dog-poop bag. 

He could probably take over the world now. At least the almighty feel in his chest deluded him to think that. So much money brought so much power after all, right?

Hell yeah!

 

. . . 

 

When Brendan entered through the gate he got a shock of nostalgia. The three courts were still there like he'd never left them, and yeah it must've been only a week since he'd last walked here but it felt like centuries. 

A few yards away two guys sat on the green picknick table, when Brendan entered one of them jumped to his feet and shouted, "Back already, Brendan?"

For some reason Brendan thought they'd ignore him because of what he did, but In the next moment they both crowded around him; Baby Freddie who acknowledged him first and Skinny-Dave who didn't seem to have noticed that Brendan was gone to begin with. He was frowning heavily at Brendan, trying to remember what the deal was."

"You..." He trailed off, gesturing around with his crooked index finger. 

Brendan traded a glance with Freddie then looked back at Skinny-Dave and said. "Got locked up for a week. The beat up...? That tell you anything...?"

"Oh yeah!" Skinny-Dave said, jerking his finger into the sky like he was popping a balloon. "Those damn Joey Rosa's, man."

"Nah, not them. It was because of—"

"So, how's it like there? Is there really inmates raping you when you go to pick up a bar of soap?" Baby Freddie lost his patience and cut him off. Not that Brendan minded, you'd rather strike up a conversation with a demented old man then explaining things to Skinny-Dave who needed a whole recap of it all. From finish to start. 

"I wouldn't know," Brendan shrugged, started to fall into a slow walk and was immediately flanked by those monkeys. He really did kinda miss them, they're always a joy to be around. "You should ask Dave that when he gets back."

"No way!"

Brendan chuckled darkly. "Scared he'll throw you against the next glass door? I'm sure you're fine as long as you don't hug me first. Or do some other gay shit in front of him, for that matter." The right side around Brendan got quiet so he came to a stop and looked around. Baby Freddie stood a few feet behind. 

Skinny-Dave voiced his thoughts first. "Since when are you on first name basis with psycho?"

"We always were. It's just mutual now." Brendan said.

"Yeah, no, I meant, why you call him by his name."

This was starting to piss Brendan off. Like what, where they extra paranoid about another one of their friends being gay after what happened to Aaron? They could suck one. 

"Me-Crazy is a stupid name." Brendan started to walk again, not bothering if they followed him or not but after a few feet they were back at his heels.

"You didn't seem to bother about that before." Skinny-Dave persisted, scratching the poorly grown moustache thoughtfully. 

"Yeah, I'm just slowly getting sick of it you know. Also, I'm blowing him rounds and rounds now so seems only appropriate being on first name's with regulars."

The look on Skinny-Dave's face after he said this was priceless. He dropped out of every expression to give him a full face of disgust. Baby Freddie looked bothered as well but he seemed too distracted with something else to care about this outing, his eyes were squinted and he stared afar. 

"Relax, I'm just kidding." Brendan said. Jee-sus the way he couldn't hold in his laughter while they booth continued dwelling in the silence was really awkward. But he still didn't stop laughing until Baby Freddie suddenly chipped his voice in. 

"Why did you have to make a joke about the glass-doors?"

Brendan cut him a look. "What, does it make you sad?"

Baby Freddie looked uncomfortable, he kept his eyes on his shoes. "No, but Aaron's still in hospital and you're out here dragging him. Seems kinda fucked up. Did you at least apologise?"

"In fact, I did." Brendan said. "How about you be less of a wuss about it and let me say whatever the fuck I want so long as I keep it shut in front of Aaron?" He paused, then added. "And even when he's here, he never bothered when I said shit about his dad kicking it. Why should this be any different?"

"Sometimes people don't call things out they dislike." Baby Freddie said and somehow this sounded really passive aggressive, like there was more he wanted to say that didn't involve Aaron. But then he switched the topic in account to his discomfort. "A girl locked me down, by the way."

"I was not at all surprised he didn't lock her down." Skinny-Dave threw in from the side, chuckling smokily. 

"Shut up, dude. At least I have a girl. You're just a man-slut like Brendan, banging it from north to south and criss-fucking-cross. You try mocking me once your STD's start becoming a collection."

"What's her name?" Brendan asked, breaking their little fight up. He kinda didn't have the nerves after juvie to listen to that bullshit, like for real it could get really annoying how Baby Freddie always got offended and felt the need to pipe in with his voice which sounded awfully close to an old heavy duty train coming to a stop with a oily screech. 

"Carleigh Rae." 

Jesus Christ. Brendan's eyes widened but Baby Freddie didn't seem to notice and went on. "Its funny how we met. I was taking the L and forgot to take my phone with me so I had no other choice but stare people down, you dig? And this smoking hot girl was supporting herself against one of those poles, she seemed pretty out of it—"

"Sounds like she was just been ultra tired after getting handed around by a few BBC's—"

"Shut up!" Baby Freddie pushed past Brendan, lurching a fist out at Skinny-Dave who lurched a harder fist at Baby Freddie and then they were fighting it out by Brendan's sneakers until Skinny-Dave finally dropped the 'Fine! Chill! She ain't that big of a bitch then! Only a teeny bit! Get off me, dickhead!'-bomb and they sorted themselves back in at either of Brendan's sides, with a bigger distance, patting their shirts clean.

For a while they walked in silence, then Skinny-Dave said he had something better to do and took off. Brendan came to a stop in front of his building, raising his brows at Freddie, his top lips sucking in his other. He was suppressing a big laugh. 

"Do you wanna hear the rest of the story, Bren?"

"Later maybe,"

Baby Freddie looked so desperate to tell the rest of the story that Brendan almost gave in out of guilt but he was really tired for some reason and just wanted to claim the couch for a few hours. 

"It's doesn't go that much longer,"

"Nah, man. Later. But you maybe want some of that?" Brendan must've felt really sorry for fucking Baby Freddie's girlfriend just an hour ago because he fished out ten of the pills from his back pocket, took Freddie's hand and slapped them on it.

Baby Freddie's jaw fell slack. "Wow, dude. Thanks!" He said. "You got them from juvie? You're dealing that instead now?"

"Purhabs, yeah."

"Skinny-Dave will be pretty bummed. He loves smoking your pot."

"Skinny-Dave can go suck it."


End file.
